Dark Days of the Edge: The Fourth Age of Flight
by fawfulfan
Summary: What has the Edgeworld become five hundred years after Nate Quarter's adventures? The Deepwoods is terrorized by a horrifying new plague and a merciless tyrant!
1. Introduction

Far far away, jutting out into the emptiness beyond, like the figurehead of a mighty stone ship, is the Edge. At the very tip of this mighty cliff lies the Stone Gardens. Centuries ago, it was here that the buoyant flight-rocks grew in mighty stacks, and were harvested for use in the mighty sky galleons that plied their trade throughout the Edgeworld. On the largest rock of all, the magnificent city of Sanctaphrax was constructed.

However, there came an age, shortly after the loss of the great Sanctaphrax rock, when the flight-rocks crumbled, the sky ships dropped from the sky, and stone-flight came to an end. It was the era of stone sickness—that terrifying plague which decimated the great sky vessels and put an end to the First Age of Flight. Roughly five hundred and fifty years later, however, Old Sanctaphrax returned to the Edge, the monstrous demon known as the Gloamglozer was killed, and stone sickness was cured. Many inhabitants of the Edge decided to stay in the east, rebuild the ruined city, and create a place free from the greed and competition of the Third Age of Flight. But all was not well. Even as the mighty spires and viaducts of Sanctaphrax began to resemble their former glory, and the telltale bumps of newborn rocks began to appear in the pavement of the Stone Gardens, a shocking piece of news spread like wildfire from the west. Soon, it was on everybody's tongue: "_Riverrise is at war!_"

Far to the west, in a magnificent, lamplit city built into the side of the sacred mountain where life itself began, pandemonium and bloodshed were rampant. Almost immediately after the tyrannical Riverrise Custodians had been toppled from power and the life-giving waters of the Garden of Life had been made free to all, a mysterious army swept into the City of Night. The army was massive and diverse—goblins, trogs and trolls, shrykes, slaughterers, fettle-leggers, and fourthlings all marched on Riverrise, every single one of them seemingly bent on achieving a single goal: _kill the waifs_.

The City of Night was home to countless waifs. Waterwaifs, nightwaifs, flitterwaifs, bloodwaifs, barkwaifs, leechwaifs, greywaifs and ghostwaifs, copperwaifs and woodwaifs…all gifted with the power to read thoughts. For millennia, the waifs inhabited the dark, perilous Nightwoods—a black, treacherous forest to the west of the mighty Deepwoods. Ever since its founding, the city of Riverrise was home to the largest waif population of any organized settlement in the Edge. It was the waifs who ruled and governed the city, and always had been…until the strange army invaded. Thousands of waifs were brutally slaughtered, as well as those individuals who attempted to defend them, and the survivors fled the city, giving the armies full control of Riverrise. The commander of this great army, Vartolius Xax, had spent decades gathering enough followers and weapons so that he would be well prepared for the day he would make his move. The attack was well played. Vartolius Xax now ruled the city.

Just as the waif custodians of the tyrant, Golderayce One-Eye, had done, Vartolius Xax cut off the flow of sacred water from the Garden of Life. As his armies kept order in the city, he remained shut away in the great garden, performing unknown experiments and prolonging his life with the potent waters of the Riverrise spring. It was during one of his mysterious experiments that Vartolius Xax discovered that glisters—those elemental seeds of life that blew in from Open Sky—were capable of releasing vast quantities of energy. He began using the glisters to power machines. Above all, he discovered that the energy produced by enslaved glisters could be harnessed to create flying machines. Armed with this knowledge, Vartolius Xax paved the way for the Fourth Age of Flight—and set out to conquer the Edge.

Riding aboard mighty glisterships, the armies of Vartolius Xax launched mighty attacks on the Deepwoods cities of Great Glade and Hive. These new sky ships, faster and more efficient than phraxships, easily destroyed anything and anyone in their way. Great Glade and Hive fell, becoming part of Vartolius Xax's new empire. From there, conquering the other Deepwoods cities was no challenge at all. In no time at all, Vartolius Xax established himself as the Supreme Ruler of the Deepwoods.

The new order was not without resistance. A large number of Deepwoods dwellers were appalled not only by Xax's brutality and newfound authority, but also by the entire concept of the new Fourth Age of Flight. How dare _anyone_ enslave the elemental building blocks of life for use in sky ships? Many considered the idea to be nothing short of sacrilege. But those who openly resisted were swiftly silenced. To keep order in his empire, Vartolius Xax employed the most ruthless and despicable individuals as the governors of the Deepwoods settlements. Worst of all were Xelius Pulnix, a fourthling who ruled Great Glade with an iron fist and terrorized the Edgeworld with his mighty glistership, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_; and Bloodhem Spikeflail, a bloodthirsty long-haired goblin who employed shryke sisters to keep order in Hive. Even worse, Vartolius Xax began to slaughter academics and destroy the precious barkscrolls which recorded the extensive knowledge of Earth- and Sky-Scholarship alike, believing that, with the knowledge of the past eliminated, he would crush any will of the common people to resist.

For the Deepwooders, their problems did not end at the rule of Vartolius Xax, for a new plague was spreading through the Deepwoods. Known simply as the Blight, the infection began in the Twilight Woods, killing every tree until the beguiling, phraxrich forest was reduced to a desolate, misty landscape of blackened, gnarled trunks. The Blight soon rippled out across the Deepwoods. Ironwood Pines, Leadwoods, Lufwoods, Lullabees, Redoaks and Blackwoods, Brackenpines and Sallowdrops, even the fearsome, flesh-eating Bloodoaks—the mysterious infection claimed them all. At first, the Blight rippled out at an alarming speed across the Deepwoods, causing mass panic that even Vartolius Xax was hard-pressed to quell. Eventually, the spread of the disease slowed as more of the Deepwoods withered, though it constantly crept forward, relentlessly devouring trees as it spread west.

There seemed to be no end to the theories of what caused the Blight. Some said that the restriction of the Riverrise water was finally beginning to dry up the forests. Others claimed that the Blight was a new manifestation of stone sickness, which, having been cleansed from the Stone Gardens, had now spread to the Deepwoods. Still others maintained that the Blight resulted from the forces of nature attempting to punish Vartolius Xax for his evil ways, though those individuals who openly purported this view tended to disappear without a trace.

The Glorious Leader, on the other hand, had different ideas. Just as his ancestor, Orbix Xaxis, had believed many centuries ago, Vartolius Xax believed that the cure for the Blight would come from the sky. The dictator began to construct an enormous tower at the center of the Garden of Life, lined within the walls by pure stormphrax, in the belief that when the Mother Storm herself returned to Riverrise and struck the new tower, the energy of the stormphrax would be released into the earth, spreading out across the Edgeworld and purifying the Deepwoods. He founded a new army, known as the Phraxguardians, and declared himself the Most High Phraxguardian, in tribute to Orbix Xaxis's ancient order, the Guardians of Night.

Eventually, the Great Phraxtower, as it became known, stretched farther from top to bottom than the Riverrise Mountain was tall. On previous visits to the Edge, the Mother Storm, that great maelstrom which first seeded the Edgeworld with life, had never approached Riverrise from such a height, but Vartolius Xax's weather forecasters, eyes trained on the patterns of Open Sky, believed that when the Mother Storm finally came back to the Edge in thousands of years, it would arrive from a far greater altitude.

Only one area of the Edge remained free from both the Blight and the tyranny of Vartolius Xax. A large number of dissenters who were not executed by the terrible Phraxguardians escaped to the east, where a group of Deepwooders were still diligently rebuilding Old Sanctaphrax. A mighty new city was formed at the eastern regions, known as Omniphrax. A haven for academics and Deepwooders alike, Omniphrax was heavily defended and protected from the Phraxguardians.

In Omniphrax, a new group emerged from the ranks of the Librarian Scholars—a group that dared to challenge Vartolius Xax. They were known as the Pirates Academic—scholars who, piloting First-Age sky galleons, raided the great cities of the Deepwoods, retrieving those barkscrolls Vartolius Xax's forces had not yet burned, rescuing hapless Deepwooders from the wrath of the Phraxguardians, and doing all they could to inconvenience the Glorious Leader and his empire.

Five hundred years have now passed since Vartolius Xax first invaded Riverrise. He and his governors are still alive, preserved, as Golderayce One-Eye was before them, by the life-giving waters of the Riverrise Spring. The Blight still terrorizes the Deepwoods, and Vartolius Xax still terrorizes the Deepwooders.

And Omniphrax is still holding its own at the very tip of the Edge.

It is during these times that a thirteen-year-old librarian by the name of Bron Rackis is studying in Omniphrax. His parents, who both served in the Twilight Marines, were killed during a glistership attack. He is taken care of by both the Librarian Scholars and his grandmother, a retired Pirate Academic by the name of Leris Quarter. He dreams of becoming a Pirate Academic just like his grandmother, and raiding the Deepwoods to rescue Deepwooders and knowledge in equal measure. He dreams of becoming a living legend, like the famous pirate duo, Captains Raziel Tollinix and Philbus Venvax. He dreams of defying Vartolius Xax…

The Deepwoods, the Stone Gardens, the Edgewater River. Undertown and Sanctaphrax. Names on a map.

Yet behind each name lie a thousand tales—tales that have been recorded in ancient scrolls, tales that have been passed down the generations by word of mouth—tales which even now are being told.

What follows is but one of those tales.


	2. Chapter 1: The Assignment Ceremony

"Bron," said the figure softly, bending down and gently shaking the young Omniphrax apprentice. "Wake up, darling. It's your big day."

Bron Rackis slowly opened his eyes, and stared up into the kindly old face hovering over him. "All right, Grandma. I'm ready."

Leris Quarter stepped back, and Bron swung his legs, jumping out of his hammock. Finally, after years of training and study of all the disciplines of Omniphrax, it was time to hear what job the Senate had decided was best for him.

So it was with all the apprentices. They all spent many years learning from all the various academics. The Librarians Academic, the Sky Scholars, the Farmers Academic, the Twilight Marines…and the Pirates Academic.

For as long as he could remember, Bron had idolized the Pirates Academic. All the academics had noble and important jobs, of course, but the Pirates Academic were the only ones who openly challenged that terrible tyrant, Vartolius Xax. It was the Pirates Academic who rescued innocent Deepwooders from the cruelty of the Phraxguardians of Riverrise. It was the Pirates Academic who raided the Deepwoods and returned with plant and animal specimens for the Farmers and the Librarians, so that they in turn might breed them and prevent them from being claimed by the Blight. Yes, Bron Rackis would give anything to join the ranks of the Pirates Academic.

His own grandmother had herself been a Pirate Academic many years ago. When Bron looked at Leris, he could still see the wild spirit and determination that had driven her to defy the evil forces at work in the Deepwoods.

A knock came at the door. "Oh, that must be Murtus," said Leris. "Get dressed quickly, dear; we can't be late." With that, Leris scurried out of the room, shouting "I'm coming!"

Bron ran over to his wardrobe and pulled out his clothes. They were the purple and red robes of an Omniphrax apprentice. _This will be the last time I put these on_, thought Bron excitedly. _The question is, will I soon be wearing the blue greatcoat of a Pirate Academic? _When he was fully dressed, Bron left his bedroom and entered the kitchen, to find Leris talking to a familiar man with broad shoulders and a tangled white beard. Murtus Lodd, the Most High Librarian.

When Bron had been three years old, his parents, who both served in the Twilight Marines, had been killed during one of Vartolius Xax's regular attacks on Omniphrax. Murtus Lodd had taken pity on the youngster, and from that point on, the venerable academic seized every opportunity to spend time with Bron and Leris. If Leris was Bron's mother figure, Murtus was certainly his father figure. Murtus had originally hoped that Bron might become a Librarian Scholar, but acknowledged that he probably wasn't a good fit. Bron was never one to spend hours sorting scrolls and studying Deepwoods plants and animals. He longed for adventure.

"Bron, my boy! How are you?" boomed Murtus heartily, clapping Bron on the shoulder.

"I'm a bit anxious," Bron replied.

"What would you be, if the choice was yours?" inquired Murtus.

"A Pirate Academic," replied Bron without hesitation, glancing over at Leris.

Murtus chuckled. "I knew it! You always loved flying aboard those mighty sky ships, didn't you, Bron? You'd make a great Pirate Academic. I sincerely hope you get your wish."

"Thanks," said Bron eagerly.

"I'll make you a quick breakfast, and then we'll fly to Undertown in Murtus's skycraft," said Leris opening the cupboard. "Hmmm…only two porridge mixes left. I assume you'll want the gladeonion porridge, rather than the tripweed one."

"Of course. You know I can't stand tripweed," said Bron.

"Well then, gladeonion it is," said Leris, taking down the box and pouring it into a large ironwood bowl. "It'll be ready in two shakes of a tilder's tail."

A few minutes later, the three of them were tucking into bowls of gladeonion porridge. Bron ate quickly, determined not to be late to the Assignment Ceremony.

"Listen, Bron," said Leris suddenly, her voice uncharacteristically serious. Bron looked up uneasily. "I know you want to be a Pirate Academic. I don't doubt you'll get the job, and I don't doubt you'll work hard and show bravery. But I must impress upon you that the job can be terrifying. You'll often look death right in the eye."

"I know that," mumbled Bron with a touch of defiance, his mouth full of gladeonion porridge. "I'll have to risk my life."

"I think it's time I finally told you the story of how I got this," said Leris, pulling up her shirt slightly to reveal a livid purple scar running across her stomach.

Bron's eyes widened. Leris had told him many stories about her experiences as a Pirate Academic, but had always refused to talk about that one particular event.

"It was about thirty years ago," said Leris. "Word had reached Omniphrax that Xelius Pulnix was on the move. Apparently a village of woodtrolls near Great Glade had failed to meet that despicable governor's tax demands, and that if they didn't pay up in a week, he was going to wipe them out personally. Well, I couldn't stand for such cruelty. I requested permission from the Pirate General of the day, Rensor Penitax, to lead a fleet of six sky ships to rescue the woodtrolls, and he arranged it. Soon, we were on our way…

"After a week, we arrived at the village. I could see at once that the woodtrolls were panicking, running this way and that, gathering up possessions and young'uns. It dawned on me that today was Xelius Pulnix's deadline—he must be coming. This mission was going to be harder than I thought.

"I don't think I'll ever forget the looks of frantic joy and relief on the woodtrolls' faces when they saw our fleet. We landed in the center of the village, and I called out 'Fear not, brave Deepwooders! The Pirates Academic have come for you!' Then, the woodtrolls began to board our ship. But then, suddenly, a shadow began to fall across the trees. I looked up, and saw, with a thrill of dread, that the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ had arrived…

"Xelius Pulnix's glistership was the largest and most menacing sky ship I had ever seen, armed with every kind of weapon imaginable, not to mention a crew of bloodthirsty hammerhead goblins. My own sky ship, the _Cloudrunner_, was an inconsequential speck next to it.And Xelius Pulnix himself stood at the bow of the ship, above the figurehead of Vilnix Pompolnius, his ancient ancestor. Xelius's face was twisted in exactly the same contemptuous snarl as the figurehead, murder on his mind.

"I screamed to the woodtrolls 'Hurry! Climb aboard NOW!' They all dropped their bags and possessions and sprinted for our ships. And that was when all hell broke loose. Phraxfire globes began to rain from the glistership above us. Cabins and trees erupted in white flames. Screams and yells were everywhere. Already, stragglers were being picked off by phraxfire and crossbow bolts. Some of the Pirates shot crossbow bolts of their own up at the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, and they managed to kill a few of the archers, but it did little good. Far more of the woodtrolls were killed than rescued.

"Finally, I realized that we couldn't save any more of the woodtrolls, and I shouted for my stone pilot to cool the flight-rock. The other captains echoed my command. The five sky ships rose into the air, and began to head back to Omniphrax in tight formation, but we were still in grave danger. Now that Xelius Pulnix had laid waste to the woodtroll village, he wanted to shoot us out of the sky. It was no longer about the woodtrolls on board; we were a much more valuable target.

"The barrage was unrelenting and terrible. The phraxfire globes began to tear into our sky ships, and fires erupted. We quickly put most of them out, but not before they caused horrible damage. Then, the sky ship on the far left dropped out of the sky, smashing to pieces on the ground below. One of the phraxfire globes had hit its flight-rock, ripping it to shreds and heating the fragments to enormous temperatures.

"I yelled for my stone pilot to give us more lift, but we couldn't shake off the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. Despite its enormous size, it was easily twice the speed of any of our ships. Soon, the ship had caught up with us, and four grappling hooks shot from the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, each one latching onto one of the pirate ships. Swarms of hammerhead goblins slid down the grappling hook lines, streamed onto our decks, and began to cut down pirate after pirate…

"Suddenly, Xelius Pulnix himself landed on the deck in front of me. I quickly drew my sword just as he unsheathed his, and we attacked each other in a frenzy. The clang of swords filled my ears, drowning out the screams and bangs around me. Xelius Pulnix was determined to destroy me, and I was determined to destroy him. But I made a foolish mistake. As my father always told me, '_As tempting and natural as it is, never let anger fuel your sword's blows. It will only make you more vulnerable_.' I grew careless, and blindly slashed at him. He easily parried my attacks, and he took one great swipe that I could not block.

"I had never known pain like it. It felt as though I had been cleaved in two. I remember wondering if this was death. Yet I could not be dead, because Xelius Pulnix was not finished with me. I was lying on the deck, and the evil governor of Great Glade was standing over me, cackling with triumph, sword raised for a final blow. He began to bring his sword down…

"But suddenly, another sword came from out of nowhere, blocking Xelius Pulnix with such force that his sword flew out of his hand. Looking around, I saw that my savior was young Raziel Tollinix…"

"What, _the_ Raziel Tollinix?" blurted out Bron. Raziel Tollinix was perhaps the greatest Pirate Academic ever to live. Bron had seen her, but had never spoken to her.

"Yes, Bron, _the_ Raziel Tollinix," chuckled Leris. "Anyway, having disarmed Xelius Pulnix, Raziel then thrust her sword at Xelius's chest, but he sidestepped the attack and ran for it. He jumped into a small glistercraft and flew back to the _Vilnix Pompolnius_.

"By that point, three more of our pirate ships had been destroyed. I knew we had only one chance left. I shouted, 'Stone pilot! Pretend to hurtle! NOW!' Je doused the flight rock, and the _Cloudrunner_ soared off into High Sky, the other pirate ship promptly following our lead.

"Miraculously, it worked. Xelius Pulnix thought that our sky ships had hurtled off into open sky, and the _Vilnix Pompolnius _turned back and headed for Great Glade. Unfortunately, the other sky ship had ascended too fast and really _did_ hurtle. But we managed to steady the _Cloudrunner_, and the remaining Pirates Academic defeated the last of the hammerhead goblins. The _Cloudrunner_ was barely skyworthy, but we managed to bring it back to Omniphrax.

"As it turned out, we had only managed to rescue half a dozen woodtrolls. For that, we lost four sky ships and a huge number of brave Pirates Academic. What was more, my stomach wound was a critical injury. Xelius Pulnix's sword had cut muscle and damaged some of my organs. Even worse, the wound swiftly became infected. Were it not for the cures and potions of the Librarians, I would surely have died. As it was, it was a very long time before I was fit to embark on any more missions…

"So, you see, Bron, the life of a Pirate Academic is a hard one. I don't say this to turn you off to the job. I say it to make sure that you are prepared for the dangers you will face if the job becomes yours."

"We must hurry. We're going to be late!" said Murtus Lodd abruptly, causing both Bron and Leris to leap to their feet, pull on their boots, and dash out the door, with Murtus hurrying after.

The three of them tore down the cobbled streets and across the buoyant sumpwood bridges and walkways of Library Rock. The streets were already packed with Librarian Scholars, rushing this way and that, carrying bundles of barkscrolls and stacks of treatises. Bron, Leris, and Murtus rushed past the elegant domed halls of the Library of Trees and the glass-walled laboratories and greenhouses of the Library of Herbs. Three librarians-at-arms crossed the street in front of them. Framed by light from the rising sun was the massive curving outline of the Master Library, where additional copies of treatises from every institution were available for researchers. "Nearly…there…" panted Murtus, turning left onto a particularly broad street. "Yes! Here we are."

They had arrived at the Library of Wood Flight. An enormous tower covered in gantries and bridges, the Library of Wood Flight was swarming with Second-Age skycraft. Bron, Leris, and Murtus dashed into the Academy, rushing through great open halls full of skycraft in various stages of completion. Academics were scurrying up and down staircases that Bron knew led down to the Laboratories of Light inside the stonecomb of Library Rock, where the slime-moles were raised and the skycraft varnish was manufactured.

The three of them rushed into the Stone Elevator, a capsule made from a carved flight-rock. "Top floor," Murtus gasped to the elevator pilot, clutching at a stitch in his side. "Certainly, Most High Librarian, sir," said the elevator pilot respectfully, and flipped the cooling switch on.

Instantly the Stone Elevator hissed, and Bron shivered as the capsule chilled. The Stone Elevator shot upwards. After a few seconds, the elevator pilot turned the cooling switch off and activated the heating rod, causing the elevator to decelerate and come to a halt at the top floor.

"Quickly, quickly!" said Murtus, and the three of them tore out of the Stone Elevator and onto the highest gantry of the Library of Wood Flight. At the end of the walkway floated Murtus's personal skycraft, the _Banderbear_. Larger than most skycraft, the _Banderbear_ could seat three people. Murtus jumped into the pilot's seat, and Bron and Leris took the other two. "As long as the wind remains at more or less this speed, I should be able to get us to Senate Hall just in time for the ceremony," said Murtus, and the _Banderbear _launched into the air, loft-sails billowing.

Murtus dipped the skycraft, and they were suddenly headed for Old Undertown below. How strange it was, Bron suddenly found himself thinking, to remember that long ago, the city of Undertown had been a hellish place of belching smokestacks and greedy leaguesmen. When General Tytugg took over the city, it became even worse, enslaving most of the citizens. But the Dark Maelstrom had destroyed the city roughly a thousand years ago. Centuries later, when Omniphrax was founded, Undertown was rebuilt as the place of freedom and prosperity it once was meant to be. It was also the location of the federal governing body of Omniphrax—the Omniphrax Senate. It was the Senators who would be reviewing the grades and records of the apprentices, and determining their ideal job.

A few minutes later, the _Banderbear _touched down outside Senate Hall. A grand building constructed in what was once the Western Quays, Senate Hall was already bustling with hundreds of apprentices eager to hear of their assignment. Bron took his place in the crowd, Leris stood along the back wall with the other guardians of the apprentices, and Murtus rushed to the front to join the other district leaders of Omniphrax.

Murtus Lodd took his place on the stage beside Arnix Filatine, Most High Academe of Old Sanctaphrax, and Philbus Venvax, the Pirate General. Next to them were Ferrix Nemulis, Viceroy of the Stone Gardens Council, Naria Lintrax, Headmistress of the Dormitory Towers, Drubber Grope, Chief Farmer Academic of the Mire Provinces, and Thurt Grayle, General of the Twilight Marines. And standing in front of the seven district leaders were the ten Senators of Omniphrax.

Besides the principal leaders, many other important academics had come for the ceremony, and were sitting on ornate balconies high above the ground floor. The High Librarians, earnest intelligence palpable in their expressions. The Old Sanctaphrax sky-professors, foppish and pedantic, but no less learned than their earth-scholar brethren. The matronly administrators of the Dormitory Towers. The mayors of each Mire Province, down to earth and practical. Stack-city councilors from the Stone Gardens. A handful of higher-ups from the Twilight Marines and Pirates Academic who were not on duty. All so different in so many ways. Yet all stood united by their one common desire… freedom.

The High Senator, Tesener Burlix, stepped up to the podium and raised his hand. The babbling talk died away instantly.

"Today is a glorious day," the High Senator announced in his deep, booming voice. "When the city of Omniphrax was first founded, the dictator Vartolius Xax announced across the Deepwoods that 'our pathetic resistance would be crushed within a week'. We stand here today, four hundred and fifty years after the founding of Omniphrax, and may triumphantly proclaim that, far from the 'pathetic resistance' Vartolius Xax believed would fail, Omniphrax has survived to pass the torch to yet another generation of academics. _Your_ generation."

Senate Hall erupted in cheers, and Tesener Burlix raised his hand again. "Every one of you has worked hard, and is now ready to serve Omniphrax. Though your brethren outside of primary apprenticeship shall also serve their fullest potential, you are the truly exceptional, the most gifted subset of our young academics, who from this day forth we shall groom for our highest offices. I do not doubt that every single one of you will strengthen our resistance still further. You could well be the generation who finally topples Vartolius Xax from power, cures the Blight, and heals the Edge!"

Once again, the apprentices in Senate Hall let out deafening cheers. Tesener Burlix raised his hand for quiet yet again. "It is time for the Assignment Ceremony. I shall call out your names and indicate you as a Sky Scholar, a Librarian Scholar, a Farmer Academic, a Twilight Officer, or a Pirate Academic. I must ask that the entire hall remain silent while I call out the names. When you have been called, please come to the front of the stage, shake the hands of the district leaders, and leave through the door on the right."

Tesener Burlix then pulled out an extremely long barkscroll and read aloud "Congratulations, Varnius Abix…Sky Scholar!"

An apprentice on the other side of the hall climbed to his feet and walked towards the stage. Before he had even reached the front of the Hall, Tesener Burlix called out "Congratulations, Ambris Aderus… Farmer Academic!"

The names continued. The apprentices were called up alphabetically by last name, and walked up to the stage. Bron sat still, waiting eagerly for his announcement. There were hundreds of apprentices in the hall. It would be a long time before he was called up.

The ceremony went on and on, and the hall slowly began to empty. Often, when an apprentice was called, their parents or guardians would walk through another door on the side of the hall, presumably to congratulate their son or daughter.

At last, it was Bron's turn. He tensed in his seat. His assignment was coming!

Tesener Burlix announced in his deep voice, "Congratulations, Bron Rackis…Twilight Officer!"

Bron did not immediately climb to his feet. Shock and disappointment gnawed at him like a swarm of snickets. _Twilight Officer_? How could it be?

"Bron Rackis, Twilight Officer?" repeated Tesener Burlix.

Bron scrambled to his feet, and walked towards the stage. He had not been the only one to hesitate. Several times, he had seen apprentices take a long time to respond, clearly disappointed at their assignment. Bron had never dreamed that he would be one of those people.

_ Twilight Officer_.

Serving in the Twilight Marines was certainly brave and noble work. Indeed, his parents had both been officers in the Twilight Marines. They patrolled the outermost district of Twilight's Edge, defending Omniphrax from Vartolius Xax's frequent glistership attacks. Without the Twilight Marines, Omniphrax would have been destroyed a long time ago. But still…it wasn't the same as being a Pirate Academic. Bron was crushed.

On the stage, he shook hands with the seven district leaders of Omniphrax. Murtus Lodd looked desperately sorry for Bron, but the others betrayed no emotion. The last district leader, Thurt Grayle, nodded solemnly as Bron shook his head. Bron attempted to be respectful; after all, he would now report to Thurt Grayle. Once he had shaken hands with everyone, he walked through the door on the right of the stage.

Bron found himself in a long corridor lined with many doors. Walking down the hall towards him was Leris Quarter.

"I'm sorry, Bron," she said, hugging him tightly. "This has to be hard."

A lump formed in Bron's throat, and he couldn't prevent tears from streaming down his cheeks. His lifelong dream had been shattered.

_ Twilight Officer_.


	3. Chapter 2: Scheming

**i.  
Riverrise**

Far, far away from Omniphrax, at the top of the Great Phraxtower of Riverrise, Vartolius Xax paced back and forth angrily, his white robes swishing about in his agitation, the spike atop his cap of office quivering ominously.

"I've had enough of this," he snarled. "Enough of those upstarts in Omniphrax, who continue to oppose my rule…"

The door of Vartolius Xax's chambers burst open and a sweating gnokgoblin entered the room. "Most High Phraxguardian, sir, I…"

Vartolius Xax seized the gnokgoblin and slammed him against the wall. "_How DARE you interrupt my private musings!_" he roared, shaking the terrified goblin back and forth.

"I…I have a message for you," choked the gnokgoblin, quivering with fear. "Xelius Pulnix is on his way up. He s-sent me ahead to t-t-tell me of his…his imminent arrival."

Vartolius Xax seemed to calm down, though he didn't let go of the goblin. "Thank you for your message," he said. With that, he frogmarched the gnokgoblin to the balcony and hurled him over the side. The hapless goblin's terrible screams faded away as he vanished beneath the clouds. With a sigh, Vartolius Xax flopped down onto an ornately carved chair and waited for Xelius Pulnix to arrive.

A few minutes later, there came a knock at the door. "Enter," said Vartolius Xax coldly. The door swung open, and Xelius Pulnix entered the room. Tall, gangly, and brutal-faced, Xelius Pulnix inclined his head and spoke in his nasally drawl. "Greetings, Most High Phraxguardian."

"Have a seat," said Vartolius Xax, gesturing to a chair that was much smaller and harder than his own. Xelius Pulnix sat down and faced the dictator, who reached for a glass of vintage sapwine on a nearby table, pouring himself a generous amount. The Governor of Great Glade cast a covetous look at the bottle, but Vartolius Xax ignored him.

"I'll get straight to the point," said Vartolius Xax, swilling the sapwine around gently in the crystal goblet he was holding. "I'm done dealing with Omniphrax. I'm fed up with the failed attempts to seize the city. I want them finished. For good."

"Well, I can organize another attack," said Xelius Pulnix hesitantly, "But you know how the invasions go. I don't see how we can make this invasion any different."

"It just so happens that _I_ do," replied Vartolius Xax, sipping from his goblet. A look of curiosity suffused Xelius Pulnix's features.

"The problem, as I see it," continued the dictator, "is that we have given up too easily in the past. We attack the city, those 'Twilight Marines' drive us back, and we slink away in premature defeat."

"Premature defeat?" echoed Xelius Pulnix, fighting to suppress his indignation. "Forgive me, Glorious Leader, but I never order the Great Glade Military to retreat until further attack is impossible. Those dissidents in Omniphrax aren't fools…centuries of resistance have taught them how to hold us off. First they cripple our primary weapons, and then they go for the glisterjets. If we persevered, our fleet would be destroyed. We…"

"There are all different kinds of perseverance," Vartolius Xax cut across his governor's protests, setting down his goblet with a clink. "You can persevere idiotically, as in your scenario. Or you can persevere strategically."

"Most High Phraxguardian?" said Xelius Pulnix, confused.

"It takes far shorter to recover from our losses than it takes those Omniphrax academics. We can simply enslave more Deepwooders to replace fallen troops, and, seeing as how we have most of the resources of the Edge at our fingertips, repairs are very easy to handle. But in Omniphrax, it's not that easy to replace Twilight Privates and Pirates Academic. And their phraxcannon will take a while to repair should they be damaged, and take even longer to replace should they be destroyed."

"So, how are we to use this advantage?" inquired Xelius Pulnix, his voice laden with curiosity.

"Simple," replied Vartolius Xax. "We attack Omniphrax, and when they drive us back, we immediately repair our ships, draft more Deepwooders, and attack again. They won't be expecting it, and they won't be able to defend quite so well as before. If they drive us back again, we'll repeat the process. They can't hold out against that sort of attack forever."

Xelius Pulnix's mouth curled into a wicked smile. "I love it." he cackled. "I'll set sail for Great Glade immediately. I'd say I can organize the first attack in two weeks."

"Excellent." Vartolius Xax said, seizing his goblet again and raising it above his head. "And this time, we cannot fail!"

**ii.  
Hive**

"Ah, Mother Muleclaw," said Bloodhem Spikeflail, rising from his chair as the Roost-Mother entered his office. "Has the _Mollus Leddix_ arrived?"

"Indeed, Warden General," replied Mother Muleclaw VIII. "Silence, Drekkel!" she snapped, rounding on her squawking shryke-mate. Instantly, the drab creature shut his beak and scuttled over to the corner of the room.

"My apologies, Warden General," clucked Mother Muleclaw. "I don't know why I even bother with him. More trouble than he's worth."

"Never mind that. You were talking of the _Mollus Leddix_?"

"Yes, Warden General, the _Mollus Leddix_ docked in Hive this morning. It has brought a shipment of dissident mobgnomes, fresh from Great Glade."

"Marvelous," purred the long-haired goblin, an unpleasant smirk forming on his face. "We'll put them to work immediately. It is time for them to do something constructive for the Empire."

"I don't know about that, Warden General. This bunch seems pretty stubborn. They may not comply with our demands."

"Well, then, that just leaves one question," said Bloodhem. "Do we barrel them, or shall the shryke sisters feast on their hearts?"

"I'd suggest barrelling, Warden General. My shrykes just dealt with a colony of termagants this morning, and all that bloodoak sap in their veins has made many of the sisters ill."

"Have it your way, then," said Bloodhem lightly.

"I must greet the mobgnomes then. Good day, Warden General." With that, Mother Muleclaw clicked her beak, Drekkel hurried over to her, and the pair of them left the room.

Bloodhem walked across his office and gazed out the window of the Gyle Palace. As always, Hive was bustling with activity. The barrelling cranes were moving this way and that, and every few seconds, another barrel would drop over the Hive waterfall, taking another prisoner with it. Bloodhem gazed over to the Docks, and saw hundreds of glisterships arriving, unloading new prisoners, and departing for Great Glade. He could see the _Mollus Leddix_ nestled between a pair of smaller ships, still unloading a large group of mobgnomes.

"Welcome to Hive." Bloodhem growled softly, and cackled.

**iii.  
Great Glade**

"Let me see if I understand you, Lurroam," said Bruto Spleethe. "You can reveal to me the location of the City of Yodels?"

The Commander of the Great Glade Military sat in a high-backed chair in a tall, wide chamber at the top of a Free Glades government building, gazing down in contempt upon a large, black-furred, trembling beast, shackled and chained. A line of military officials stood around it, poker-straight and silent.

"Wurrah-wuh, luweera wurgh," said the banderbear.

"What does it mean?" Bruto snapped at the translator sitting beside his desk.

"Roughly translated, he said, _If I can purchase my freedom with the blood of my brethren, it shall be done_." replied the young fourthling hastily.

Bruto looked at Lurroam suspiciously. He had never trusted banderbears. It ran in his family. Supposedly, a banderbear had thwarted an ancient ancestor of his from taking over a sky ship during the First Age of Flight. He didn't know if this was true, but there was always _something_ about the beasts that he had despised.

This particular banderbear had been caught poking around trash heaps near an industrial complex in Old Forest. Such sightings were quite routine, but the creatures had an infuriating habit of disappearing before they could be captured, no doubt returning to their secret city of tunnels below Great Glade. But this one hadn't been quick enough.

Bruto Spleethe had expected, indeed would have staked his life on, the banderbear defiantly refusing to give any information in the face of whatever torture it was offered. Stubbornly loyal creatures, they were. Yet it seemed that the Great Glade Military had managed to haul in the most cowardly, sniveling wretch to ever emerge from a banderbear's womb. It had immediately offered to its captors the deepest secrets of its kind in exchange for its own life.

"You are aware, Lurroam, that you could very well be condemning your race to extinction," said Bruto.

"Wurgh wuh-wurrah," Lurroam yodeled quickly.

"Tell me what it's saying, and this time, don't say it in some nonsense riddle," snarled Bruto.

"He's saying he doesn't care," said the fourthling.

"That's quite a bold statement, Lurroam. How can I trust you?"

"Wuh, Wurr…"

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," interrupted Bruto. "But be warned, Lurroam. If you're trying to trick me or the Great Glade Military, your death will be as horrific as it is within my power to make it. Understand?"

The banderbear nodded vigorously.

"You will sleep in the glistercraft hangars tonight, and tomorrow, you will show me the way to the City of Yodels."

Again, Lurroam nodded.

"All right then, take him away," said Bruto, waving to his officers. They pushed and shoved at the banderbear, leading the creature out of the chamber.

Bruto leaned back in his chair, smirking contentedly. How satisfying it would be to deliver to Xelius Pulnix the news that banderbears had at last gone extinct.


	4. Chapter 3: Twilight's Edge

The majestic sky ship, the _Breezebane_, flew on, away from the district of Old Undertown.

Bron sat in the lower deck, with around twenty other apprentices who had been chosen for the Twilight Marines. He looked out of the window, and saw countless other sky ships, also containing new Twilight Officers, heading for the great wall known as Twilight's Edge.

He glanced back, in the direction that they had come. In the distance, the towers, bridges, and glades of Old Undertown were shrinking away. And there, above it, were the four great floating rocks. Library Rock, where he and Leris had lived, the great libraries and laboratories still discernible from this distance. Old Sanctaphrax, the most ancient of the districts, with its impressive towers and viaducts, cloisters, lecture halls, and observatories. The Dormitory Towers, with its refugee camps. And…Pirate Landing.

Disappointed tears still swam in Bron's eyes as he looked at the last of the Sanctaphrax rocks. He could see the lower levels, with their bustling sky shipyards, the great tower, with its bridges and docks teeming with great sky ships, and, at the very top, secured by a sturdy anchor chain, the most magnificent vessel ever to take to the skies. The _Edgesaver_, flagship of the Pirates Academic.

Bron tore his gaze away. He couldn't live in the past. He was a private of the Twilight Marines now, and he would never amount to anything if he devoted his thoughts to bemoaning what might have been.

Instead Bron gazed downwards, at the hundreds of Mire Provinces stretching out over the horizon. Each of these settlements were run by Farmers Academic, devoted to the preservation of a specie or genus from the Deepwoods. A shimmering glade directly below them was filled with magnificent silverpines and goldbeeches, gleaming and shining like precious stones. Another settlement was home to a perfectly simulated habitat for countless species of quarms; silver-backed, long-tailed, shrieking, jag-clawed, and many more. Far in the distance, the magnificent pines of the famous Ironwood Province towered into the sky, some taller than the cruising altitude of their sky ship…

Not all of the provinces were devoted to the protection of species. For instance, the Heredity Province was full of scientists and academics, devoted to breeding hardier versions of the Deepwoods creatures and plants, in the hope that they might be able to survive in the Deadwoods. The Province of Allocation devoted its time to organizing which specimens in the various provinces were to be shipped to other provinces for use as prey or predators. And then there was the greatest province of them all: New Freeglades, where the governing bodies of the Mire Provinces were headquartered.

Bron turned his head to look in the other direction…and gasped.

There it was. Twilight's Edge.

During his training, Bron had often wondered why Twilight's Edge was able to repel the mighty forces of Vartolius Xax. After all, glisterships far outstripped sky ships, and were armed to the teeth with the most destructive weapons; phraxfire globes, rapid-fire catapults, and, worst of all, glisterbeams. But, in that instant, Bron had his answer.

The fortress was larger than Bron could have ever imagined. It stretched all the way from the southern Edgelands to the northern Edgelands, and was so tall that the highest towers and gantries were lost in the clouds. Bron could see that no flying device—flight-rock, varnished sumpwood, phraxchamber, or glisterjet—could possibly fly over it. At that height, the turbulent winds of High Sky would tear any craft to pieces. Nor would they be able to fly around the fortress. Dangling over the Edge itself, on either side of Twilight's Edge, were structures known as "sky-gates"—fortified sumpwood barriers that allowed Omniphrax sky ships to pass by freely, but would block and shoot down any enemy vessel. To attempt to fly around the sky-gates would be suicide, for at that distance from the Edge, any sky ship would be blown out into open sky, from whence there would be no return. Bron could see that the only way to pass through Twilight's Edge would be to blast through the wall—and to do _that,_ any enemy sky ship would have to withstand volleys of crossbow bolts and flaming balls of ironwood.

No, not even the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ itself would be able to breach defenses such as these. Yet Vartolius Xax had tried to breach the defenses for centuries. Every time, the dictator had failed.

In spite of Bron's amazement, he could not shake off the glum feeling that had settled in him since yesterday, at the Announcement Ceremony. _Being a Twilight Officer is brave and respectable_, he told himself. _My parents were both in the Twilight Marines. They died fighting Vartolius Xax. It all comes to the same thing; I'm still serving Omniphrax_.

But he didn't believe what he was telling himself. It wasn't the same thing at all. It was perfectly true that the Twilight Marines were courageous and important, but it wasn't the life for him.

As they approached Twilight's Edge, Bron realized that it was even bigger than he had realized. The wall had to be the height of _fifty_ ironwood pines, and covered in bridges, gantries, towers, and weapons. Even more astonishing were the small cities built into the side of the wall, where the Twilight Marines clearly lived. And it was constantly looking larger; every time Bron thought he finally had a good idea of its true size, he realized that they weren't anywhere near the structure.

At long, long last, the _Breezebane_ arrived at a long sumpwood platform, and the apprentice Twilight Officers disembarked. Bron could see the other sky ships docking at other platforms, and distant crowds just like theirs, marching towards the towers and scaffolding of Twilight's Edge.

Bron's group began to climb a set of wooden stairs, and entered a large chamber full of buoyant benches. Bron pulled one towards him, and sat down, along with a fourthling boy with long black hair and a hollow but good-natured face, and a muscular young cloddertrog.

"Well, hello there!" exclaimed the fourthling, holding out his hand first to the cloddertrog, then to Bron. "Name's Durix Hentadile."

"I'm Mord," said the cloddertrog with a grin.

"Bron Rackis," said Bron in a hollow voice.

"What's the matter, Bron?" asked Durix Hentadile, gazing at him intently.

"I didn't get the job I wanted," said Bron glumly.

"Tough, mate," groaned Mord sympathetically. "What were you hoping for?"

"I wanted to be a Pirate Academic."

"Now THAT'S a job!" said Mord.

"Still, Twilight Officer's great, Bron, don't you worry," said Durix. "My dad's a colonel, and he loves it. If we play our cards right, we can climb ladders; we'll be a huge part of the defense of Omniphrax!"

"My parents were both Twilight Corporals," said Bron quietly. "And they were killed during an attack."

"Oh," said Mord. "But it's a lot more dangerous being a Pirate Academic, you know…"

"It's not the danger that worries me," said Bron. "I know the risks. But I don't want to sit here and let the enemy come to us. I want to come to the enemy."

"Attention!"

A Twilight Sergeant had entered the room. He was a grumpy-looking tusked goblin with a purple scar on his cheek. "My name is Groave Scythefang, and I will be training you. You have all been chosen to become officers of the Twilight Marines. But first, you must complete your training. For six months, you will serve in the ranks, alongside the Twilight Privates. Then, you will spend the next six months receiving officer training. Once you graduate, you shall become a full officer, and will begin your duties. Today, you will be given a tour. Follow me."

There was a commotion of activity as the apprentice Twilight Officers hastily steered their buoyant benches back to the ground and followed the Sergeant Scythefang out a door in the back of the room.

They entered a hallway so enormous that, at first, Bron was convinced that they were outside again. Bron quickly realized that the room they were in now was a kind of indoor boulevard, and that several equally large halls branched off theirs. It looked as though smaller buildings had been constructed within the fortress, though _smaller_ was a relative term; they were still immense. The most astonishing thing, however, was the height of the room. They were standing on a platform that looked out over the hall, the floor and ceiling lost to view. Sky ferries and sumpwood skycraft were flying every which way on every level, and people could be seen bustling this way and that on other distant platforms.

"The size of Twilight's Edge may be disconcerting at first," said Sergeant Scythefang, addressing the apprentices, "but you will spend most of your careers in just a few small sections. The interior highways are so highly structured that you won't get lost as often as you'd think. Most of you will live in sections on the Mire side of Twilight's Edge, and work in sections on the Phraxfields side, which is where we are headed now."

He ushered them towards a large sky ferry, climbing into the pilot's seat, and the apprentices took seats behind him. The interior of Twilight's Edge was even more impressive when viewed from the sky ferry; Bron did not know where to look, as there seemed to be activity everywhere.

After several minutes, the sky ferry arrived at the other side of Twilight's Edge. After following Sergeant Scythefang through a few smaller halls and chambers, they stepped out onto a platform overlooking the Phraxfields.

As they were hundreds upon hundreds of strides above the ground, they did not feel the beguiling effects of the golden mist below them. However, Bron knew that this enchanting glow entered the body, robbing one of their senses and sanity, but refusing to let one die. What must it have been like, he wondered, when the Twilight Woods had been here?

The Phraxfields below them sparkled and gleamed, not only with the seductive twilight glow, but also with the particles of stormphrax poking through the earth.

"See the phraxmines below?" said Sergeant Scythefang, pointing down at the countless clusters of lights at the base of Twilight's Edge. These lights were steady and unblinking, unlike the shifting mist and sparkling sepia dust that was present everywhere else. "The phraxminers of our great city have the most dangerous jobs in all of Omniphrax. Not only must they constantly battle the effects of the twilight glow, but they are also technically on Vartolius Xax's turf. Of course, the phraxguardians practically never go out here, but the phraxminers are still vulnerable."

The tusked goblin cleared his throat and continued. "The Omniphrax miners are just some of the people whom we protect. It is our duty to defend all of Omniphrax. You will mostly do so by surveying the sky out here. If you spot an enemy glistership, you must report it immediately. There's a chance we'll be in for a battle." Sergeant Scythefang chuckled darkly. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'll show you around the living quarters…"

The next couple of weeks were not enjoyable for Bron. All of the other apprentices were fascinated and eager, but Bron had no enthusiasm for his duties. He spent most of the day scanning the skies over the Phraxfields with the Twilight Privates. The only small consolation was that he was often stationed with Durix and Mord, whom he had grown very fond of. The three of them spent a lot of time laughing and joking, behavior which occasionally earned them harsh reprimands from Sergeant Scythefang.

"While you're chatting and having a grand old time, the enemy could well be approaching!" he shouted one day, after having caught them doing crude impressions of other apprentices. "Oftentimes, invading glisterships get the upper hand at the start of the battle, all because the scouts weren't paying attention! And if you expect to become officers, that sort of behavior will be unacceptable!"

With that, he stormed away. Bron, Durix, and Mord stared after him for several seconds. Then, Durix did an impression of Sergeant Scythefang, standing poker stiff and pulling grotesque faces. Bron and Mord roared with laughter. Nevertheless, they shortly resumed their search of the heavens, not wanting anything worse to happen. Yesterday, Lidd Rellitax had been confined to the barracks for talking back to the sergeant.

Aside from these moments, however, the routine was desperately dull. Bron found himself once more dwelling on his failed ambition. The very worst part was when Bron spotted a Pirate Academic's sky ship through his telescope. At these times, he couldn't help but imagine himself standing at the helm of that ship, soaring above those parts of the Deepwoods untouched by the Blight, perhaps battling a glistership or scavenging barkscrolls from a remote village.

These magnificent images often entered his dreams as he slept in his hammock in the barracks. On two occasions, a ratbird arrived at Bron's window, bearing a letter from Leris. Both letters had been full of sympathy and consolation, but this just made Bron feel worse. He wrote in his return messages that everything was fine, and that he was enjoying himself, but he had only written that to stop his grandmother's statements that she "wished things had turned out differently".

One day, Bron, Durix, and Mord were dutifully observing the sky. They were particularly wary of doing anything that might upset the Twilight Sergeant; the other day, Yorix Burnwheel had raised a false alarm, reporting a fleet of fifty glistervessels heading for Omniphrax, as a joke. Sergeant Scythefang had bellowed himself hoarse, and nobody had seen Yorix since; the rumor was that he had been dismissed. The tusked goblin was still fuming that morning, and Bron and his friends had decided that his temper was not to be tested.

Bron scanned the skies dully. It might be vital work, but it was surely the most boring job in the entire Edge. Nothing ever happened. Nothing ever changed. And nothing ever appeared in his telescope.

Except…

With a jolt, Bron sat bolt upright, rigid with shock. "What is it?" said Mord.

"I think there's something out there…yes, it's…"

Bron's stomach turned to ice. There was no mistaking the dreaded glistership. Easily as large as the _Edgesaver_, but far more menacing, white flames were pouring from the six propulsion ducts, and the glisterjets were pulsing with gleaming scarlet light.

"That's the…the…" Bron stammered.

"What?" demanded Durix, seizing his telescope and wildly gazing in every direction.

Bron leapt to his feet, sprinted across the platform, and pulled the purple lever next to the door. Instantly, a shrill, wailing klaxon blared, causing Twilight Privates on nearby platforms to jump with alarm and scan the sky frantically.

Sergeant Scythefang burst onto the platform, panting. "This had better be good," he growled.

"Sir…it's the _Vilnix Pompolnius_!" cried Bron.

Clearly, Sergeant Scythefang had not forgotten yesterday's incident, as his face showed nothing but anger and suspicion. "If this is another false alarm…" he stormed, shaking a threatening fist at Bron.

Sergeant Scythefang seized his own telescope and gazed in the direction Bron was pointing. The color drained from his face as he found the colossal glistership. "Earth below and Sky above!" he gasped.

Fumbling in his pocket, the tusked goblin drew out a key with a shaking hand. Inserting it in the lock next to the purple lever, he slid back a compartment to reveal a second lever, this one red. As he pulled this lever, a much louder alarm blared from every tower and gantry of Twilight's Edge, and the entire fortress sprang into action.

The voice of Thurt Grayle boomed out over the speakers. "Determine distance of enemy vessel," After a few seconds, an oakelf on a platform above Bron cried out, "Between 250,000 and 500,000 strides!" This figure was shortly confirmed by several more voices.

"We will need backup. Summon the Pirates Academic," boomed the voice of Thurt Grayle. "It looks as though we're in for another battle."


	5. Chapter 4: Prisoners

**i.  
Hive**

"Let me assure you, Kethilgern, I _will_ get the information I want," snarled Bloodhem Spikeflail, gazing down at the figure bound to the chair. The terrified fettlelegger was trembling from head to taloned foot.

Bloodhem gestured to the two black-feathered shryke guards standing on either side of the door. "These fine shryke sisters said they caught you talking of the waifs. That friend you were speaking to has been dealt with, but I can assure you that they are thirsty for _more_ treacherous fettlelegger blood…and unless you answer my questions honestly, you shall slake their thirst."

The snarling long-haired goblin paced up and down, and continued. "Tell me, Kethilgern, what do you know of that treasonous settlement known as New Edgelands?"

"N-nothing," stuttered Kethilgern. "I…I was just talking of…of how much longer the waifs could last down there, for s-surely our Glorious Leader, Vartolius Xax, shall locate them soon."

"LIES!" roared Bloodhem. He drew a bloodstained hammer from his belt and smacked it menacingly on the ground.

"I'm not lying!" shouted the fettlelegger, struggling against his bonds, his browless eyes wide with panic.

Bloodhem Spikeflail swung the hammer into the side of Kethilgern's skull. Dazed, head swimming, Kethilgern stared at Bloodhem, cringing in pain and terror.

"I'll strike harder the next time," growled the long-hair.

"All right, I'll tell you everything!" cried Kethilgern.

"Excellent," purred Bloodhem.

"I…I saw three waif skycraft heading in the direction of a village near Hive. I swear, that's all I was talking about…I don't know anything else."

SMASH! The hammer made contact with the side of the fettlelegger's head once more.

It took more than thirty seconds for Kethilgern to stop his head spinning this time. "Please! That's…that's everything I know! You've got to believe me!"

Bloodhem Spikeflail gazed at Kethilgern, his face expressing nothing but contempt and disappointment. Surely if the fettlelegger was concealing anything else he would not dare risk yet another blow. "Very well," he grumbled.

"Am…am I free to go then?" inquired Kethilgern desperately.

Ignoring the question, the long-hair crossed the room, staring out the window once more. "Shrykes," he said softly, "feast."

He paid no attention to Kethilgern's screams of horror, followed by his even louder shrieks of agony as the two shrykes split him open and began to devour his organs. "So," he grumbled softly, over the hideous ripping and tearing noises behind him, "the waifs are growing bolder."

He tore his gaze away from the barreling cranes, and looked up at the sky above the prisons and crematoriums of Hive. Perhaps the three skycraft were still here, conducting raids…

"Those diminutive, sniveling, mind-reading sneak-thieves are nearly as bad as the scoundrels in Omniphrax," he snarled, pounding a fist against the glasswood windowpane. "One of these days, I'll see to it that they are all purged from the Edgeworld."

**ii.  
The City of Yodels**

The great underground chamber was full of yodeling calls and howls.

"WUH!" _Silence!_

The speaker was a large gray banderbear in the center of the chamber. The massive crowd of banderbears fell silent at once.

"Wurrah-urrow wurgh wah-wah!" _I bring grave news. One who walks among us is a traitor_.

"Wah!" shouted a small but wild-looking male. _How can this be?_

"Wuh-wuh, Lurroam worra-weg wah!" growled the gray banderbear. _Lurroam, he with tusks of iron and ears of spidersilk, has abandoned our sanctuary. He has fallen in with the white-robed ones._

There was instant uproar. Every banderbear in the chamber roared and bellowed, some with indignation and rage, others with skepticism and disbelief.

"Wurgh, worra-wah urgola!" yodeled a female with silky brown fur. _No banderbear would ever sell out his brethren. I will not believe this._

"Worremol lurgowa wuh-wuh!" barked a thin albino, rounding on the brown female in a contemptuous snarl. _Worremol, your blind trust will one day be your downfall!_

"Lurroam wah wurroo!" bellowed another voice. _My faith in Lurroam was never strong. He is a coward and a wretch!_

"WUH!" roared the gray banderbear once more. Again, the tumult died down at once.

_The white-robed ones may now know of our secret location. We have always made preparations for this day. We must flee!_

"Meerowa wurgh!" shouted another banderbear. _Have you lost your mind, Meerowa?_

The gray banderbear, Meerowa, continued. _The solitary tracks of banderbears are never meant to be unified. See what has become of us in this place? Our peaceful ways have curdled, and we bicker amongst ourselves._

"Wuroo weg-worra wah-wah!" protested an elderly female banderbear. _But we are fugitives from the white-robed ones. We would not survive!_

_There remains one place in the Edge where a welcome would await us, _yodeled Meerowa. _The eastern haven of the scholars_.

_We would never make it!_ argued the old banderbear.

_The journey would be fraught with peril,_ agreed Meerowa solemnly, _but it is our only choice. Lurroam has betrayed us to the white-robed ones; they know where we are._

_I still do not believe that! s_houted Worremol fiercely.

_Let us suppose we agree with you, Worremol, and that our sanctuary is still secret. _said Meerowa. _What is there for us here? I would rather perish in the attempt to return to the old ways, than of old age in this place, trapped like a piebald rat_.

At this, many banderbears shifted around.

_Meerowa speaks the truth!_ proclaimed a toothless old banderbear, raising a massive paw in the air.

Soon, the entire room shook with the yodeled concurrences of the banderbears.

_There is a secret passage, constructed long ago, that only the most senior of us have been aware of._ said Meerowa. _It emerges in the Deadwoods, many miles away from the surface city. Quickly, follow me!_

**iii.  
Great Glade**

"Faster, you great brute!" snarled Bruto Spleethe, lashing the great black banderbear with the menacing hammelhornhide whip in his hand.

A small convoy was moving through the cobbled streets of the New Undertown district of Great Glade. At the front was the carriage of the Commander of the Great Glade Military, pulled by Lurroam. Flanking them on either side were Freeglade Lancers. Once, this army had been charged with the noble job of protecting the beautiful Free Glades from slavers and other unpleasant visitors. With their green chequered collars, white tunics, and scarlet banderbear badges, they had crested the Deepwoods canopy, sitting astride magnificent prowlgrins and wielding mighty lances. Now, like everything else in the once-great city, the Freeglade Lancers served a different purpose.

The Freeglade Lancers no longer sported the famous uniforms, loyal prowlgrins, or even lances. Now, they wore charcoal-black robes emblazoned with a spiky red _F_ on the front, and their belts were almost completely obscured by glisterguns, phraxfire globes, and sparktasers. Instead of faithful beast companions, the Freeglade Lancers piloted small, sleek glistercraft. And, rather than fighting for freedom and peace, the modern Freeglade Lancers typically spent their time flying to the remote districts and surrounding villages, bullying and torturing those who had failed to meet the tax demands of Xelius Pulnix.

Behind the Freeglade Lancers marched a phalanx of Phraxguardians. Most of these elite minions of Vartolius Xax patrolled Riverrise and carried out twisted experiments in the Great Phraxtower, but those Phraxguardians stationed in Great Glade, Hive and the other settlements of the Deepwoods functioned as a federal authority that could overrule the local forces. The Phraxguardians were dressed in flowing, pure-white robes with a circle of black lightning bolts on the chest. And, though they looked unarmed, it was common knowledge that the Phraxguardians had countless concealed weapons underneath their robes.

At the rear were the soldiers of the Great Glade Military. Once, the city had had many different military and police forces keeping order—the Old Forest Scouts, the Phraxmarines, the Great Glade Guard, and the Cloddertrog Constabulary, among others. Now, with the exception of the Freeglade Lancers, the armies had been consolidated to form a single, mighty force. These particular soldiers were trailing large, floating sumpwood cages behind them. Each cage was crammed full of small, fluffy, orange creatures with razor-sharp teeth and enormous mouths which wrapped almost completely around their bodies—wig-wigs. Lurroam was frequently darting terrified looks at the sumpwood cages as he trudged forwards.

Like the government that controlled it, the city of Great Glade was no longer the way it was long ago. The smoke-filled sky was a hideous boiling red, the smog in the upper atmosphere penetrated only by the glare of glisterships, and much of the city was obscured by a foul-smelling haze. However, many of the most impressive structures of the city were still visible. To the north, the Ledges district was full of massive, evil-looking sky ships, glisterjets pulsing and propulsion ducts roaring. Slightly south of the Ledges, the districts of Ambristown and New Lake were rife with staggering opulence and beauty—sealed inside vast, clear domes, so that the rich government officials who made their homes there did not have to breathe the terrible fumes. To the west, the district of Cloud Quarter was even more magnificent, completely taken up by the sprawling palace of Xelius Pulnix.

Further south, the city was quite different. The remote districts of the Northern and Southern Outer Cities were highly developed, and larger than ever, filled with sprawling masses of slums where most of the unfortunate citizens of Great Glade were forced to live. The former chimneys and smokestacks of East Glade and stiltshops of Copperwood were replaced with dark, sinister factories. East Glade was the location of the weapon factories, and Copperwood now produced glisterships…and in both districts, the hapless slaves who kept the cogs turning rarely lived past thirty years. The districts of Old Forest and the Silver Pastures were now just as industrial as East Glade and Copperwood; the factories here produced more innocuous items, such as furniture and cooking pots—yet the slaves here hardly fared better than those constructing weaponry and glisterships. The markets of New Undertown were perhaps less changed than the other districts, though it was far from uncommon to encounter slave-traders there these days.

Perhaps the worst fate of all, however, was the one suffered by the oldest and most historic district of Great Glade—The Free Glades. These days, that name was more than a tad ironic, for the Free Glades was the location of the government buildings and army barracks of Great Glade. It was from the Free Glades that the influence of Vartolius Xax and Xelius Pulnix was exercised.

"I said FASTER!" screamed Spleethe.

"Wig-wig," Lurroam muttered in fear, glancing over his shoulder again.

"_FASTER_, you dimwitted sack of fur, or they will dine on your flesh right here and now!" shrieked Spleethe, lashing Lurroam with renewed brutality. The black banderbear yelped and redoubled his efforts.

In a few minutes, the markets of New Undertown gave way to the foundries and forges of Old Forest. Foremen were zooming about on glistercraft, screaming insults and zapping the groaning slaves with sparktasers. Some of them merely moaned in agony and continued their work; others screamed as the bolts of energy hit them and shakily increased their speed; one or two of them dropped to the ground and did not get up. What was more, a few foremen who overstepped their authority were being publicly flogged by Phraxguardians and Great Glade Military Officers, howling in pain and humiliation.

"Well, well, well…a banderbear!" leered a flat-head goblin foreman, staring at Lurroam, clearly wondering if he could bully the occupant of the carriage into offering the rare creature up for servitude. However, the foreman's evil grin instantly vanished as he registered the phalanx of soldiers, and the Commander of the Great Glade Military, and he hastily scurried away before anyone could realize what he'd been planning.

"Wurrawoo wuh-wuh wurgh!" growled Lurroam, pointing to a soot-stained statue of a hammerhead goblin, larger than life, standing in the shadow of a massive factory. If the banderbear hadn't pointed it out, none of the group would have noticed it.

"He's saying that's the secret entrance into the City of Yodels," piped up the fourthling translator, who was sitting next to Spleethe in the carriage.

"Very well," said Spleethe. With a crack of the hammelhornhide whip, Spleethe severed the bindings harnessing Lurroam to the carriage. "Lancers, Guardians…I do not need backup; I can look after myself." he fingered the phraxfire globes at his belt. "Lurroam, lead the way. And you can follow behind us, Vinnius."

Spleethe stepped out of the carriage, followed by the fourthling, Vinnius. Lurroam hurried over to the statue, and beckoned Spleethe with his massive paw. Spleethe and Vinnius hurried over, and Lurroam gestured towards the exposed left ankle of the statue. Carved into the statue's ankle was a tiny image of a banderbear's head.

"Sky above!" gasped Vinnius. Spleethe grinned unpleasantly.

Lurroam gently pressed the carved banderbear head with one of his claws, depressing it like a button. At once, there was a groaning, shifting noise, and the statue of the hammerhead slid to the right, revealing a massive hole in the wall large enough for the three of them to enter.

"A sneaky little trick," snorted Spleethe, stepping in after Lurroam, closely followed by Vinnius. "But not sneaky enough."

They found themselves in a secret passageway which sloped downwards, becoming darker and darker with every step they took. Spleethe reached into his robe and withdrew a small, spherical glass object containing a sparkling, flashing, multicolored glister. He squeezed the sphere, and at once, the flashing light changed abruptly, becoming bright, steady, and blood-red, illuminating the passageway with a scarlet glow.

"Wuh-uh-uh-ooooo!" yodeled Lurroam in alarm, staring at the sphere with wide eyes.

"He says that 'The evil imprisonment of glow-seeds in machinery fills his heart with dread,' translated Vinnius.

"I told you to stop translating what that beast says into mumbo-jumbo!" snapped Spleethe, rounding on Vinnius in anger. The fourthling shrunk back, alarmed. "And as for _you_," he snarled, turning to face the large black banderbear, who cowered in fear, "Criticizing the Glorious Leader's invention of glister power is treason of the worst kind. Watch your mouth, or there'll be a phraxfire globe with your name on it!"

Trembling, Lurroam shook his great shaggy head, and continued down the passageway, still occasionally shooting glances at the glowing sphere.

Eventually, the tunnel leveled out, and they began to see smaller paths branching off of theirs. The musty odor of fur was unmistakable. The twisting labyrinth of tunnels became more and more complex as they continued on, but Lurroam never left the main path. At last, they came to a set of great doors, each decorated with an embossed banderbear head.

"Wah-wah wurragah wurra-woo," said Lurroam.

"This is the gathering hall," explained Vinnius. "They hold two-hour meetings here at this time every day. Every single banderbear in the City of Yodels is in this room right now."

"Excellent." growled Spleethe, unclipping one of the phraxfire globes from his belt. "All it'll take to wipe them out is a few of these."

Without further ado, Lurroam opened the doors. They swung open, to reveal a cavernous hall…that was completely empty.

Spleethe stood rooted to the spot for several seconds. Then, he turned to Lurroam, incandescent with rage. "Where are the banderbears? What's the meaning of this, you great dumb brute?"

"Wu-u-uh, wurgh wulla-weg wuh wuh!" cried the banderbear in fear.

"He says that his disappearance was noticed—they probably suspect he's a traitor," said Vinnius. "He says it looks as though they've all gone."

"Gone! Gone where? Tell me, before I splatter you across the walls!" screamed Spleethe, raising the phraxfire globe.

"Wuh-uh-uh, wulla-wuroo wurgh, wah weelura-woo!"

"He says that there is a secret tunnel that only the city elders are supposed to know about, but that he overheard them discussing," explained Vinnius. "It leads to a brambly old ironwood stand in the Deadwoods, a few miles east of Northern Outer City."

"Show me this exit, you miserable oaf!" snapped Spleethe.

Lurroam crossed the room quickly. The walls of the chamber were inlaid with elaborate carvings of banderbears throughout history, describing the plight of the noble beasts from the beginning of time. Strong banderbears who had escaped the evil Deepwoods slave markets in the dark ages even before Kobold the Wise…epic journeys undertaken by thousands of individual banderbears from all corners of the Edgeworld to reach the Valley of a Thousand Echoes, for their fabled Great Convocation…the beginning of the First Age of Flight, and those adventurous banderbears who had served the sky pirates…heartrending carvings depicting the way the banderbears' way of life was threatened by the encroaching settlements of the Third Age of Flight…the merciless slaughters conducted by Vartolius Xax and his armies…the establishment of the City of Yodels beneath Great Glade, and the valiant banderbears who had given their lives to ensure the safety of their fellows…

"Well?" demanded Spleethe, running his fingers over the phraxfire globe in his hand. "Where's this secret exit?"

Lurroam pointed at a carving that looked strangely out of place. Most of the carvings were depicting events throughout history, but this carving, which resembled the simple face of a banderbear, did not seem to signify any particular event. Lurroam pressed a claw against the banderbear's left ear, and, at once, the carving slid away, revealing another carving beneath it. Apparently, this particular chapter in the history of the banderbears was supposed to be concealed.

The new carving depicted several banderbears digging through soil, apparently carving out an underground tunnel. "Wuh," said Lurroam, pushing this carving, and it swung inward to reveal a long, dark passage.

"So that's it, then," said Spleethe, an evil smile plucking at the corners of his mouth. "All we have to do is follow the tunnel, and those pestilential lummoxes will be at our mercy!"

**iv.  
New Edgelands**

"_I have brought your supper,_" came the thoughts of the ghostwaif as he entered the small chamber, bearing a tray of bluebean porridge and a jug of water.

The ancient fourthling in the room sat up. He had a lined, weary face, a long white beard, and pale, almost unnaturally blue eyes. His clothing looked as though it had once been elegant and fashionable, but it was now little more than tatters. The most peculiar thing about the figure, however, was that he was glowing.

Every building and street in the settlement of New Edgelands was pitch-black—no sunlight reached this place, at the base of the Edge cliff itself, and the waifs had no need for lamps when they could see with their minds—except for this room. The mysterious golden glow emanating from the fourthling flooded the room with light, making the ghostwaif squint.

"You're too kind, Tintifuce," rasped the fourthling, his voice shattering the deathly silence.

The ghostwaif winced, barbells quivering. "_I do wish that you would lower your voice,_" he thought to the figure, while, at the same time, underthinking: **_As if your infernal glow wasn't bad enough, cutting through our reassuring darkness!_**

The fourthling was unable to hear Tintifuce's underthoughts, but knew enough about waifs to realize that he was concealing something nasty. "_I regret that I displease you_," he thought in reply.

"_Oh, don't be silly; it isn't a big deal_," thought Tintifuce. **_Whereas I regret that Kilfitresse has not authorized me to end your miserable life._**

With that, the ghostwaif left the room, slamming the door behind him, and the lock clicked. The fourthling swallowed a few mouthfuls of the tasteless gruel, took a sip of the water, and lay back down on the floor.

After a few seconds, he pushed himself shakily to his feet, and shuffled over to the barred window.

He could not see anything through the impenetrable darkness, but he knew that, beyond these walls, there were hundreds of dome-shaped buildings where the waifs lived. He turned his head in the direction of the Hangar…the large building where the waifs stored their skycraft. Of course, he could not see it through the gloom, but he knew that it was there. He then looked in the opposite direction. Beyond the buildings of New Edgelands, he knew, the barren, featureless rock stretched away into the distance forever.

There was a time, he reflected sadly, that he had been burning with curiosity about what lay below the Edge. Now, he wanted nothing more than to see the surface world again.

He didn't know exactly how long he had been down here, but he knew it had been hundreds of years. He was still not entirely sure what he owed his amazing longevity to, but he viewed it not as a blessing, but a curse. Especially because of the waifs.

They hated and feared him in equal measure. The darkness was their friend…it kept them safe. And he dared to shatter their darkness with his blasphemous, mysterious glow. But the waifs' equally strong fear prevented them from killing him. They were instead content to keep him imprisoned.

The fourthling reached into the pocket of his torn clothes, and pulled out a small, round portrait. It depicted a smiling youth with indigo eyes, wearing the armor of a knight academic, with the lofty towers of Sanctaphrax in the background.

"Alas, now I know exactly how you felt," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "To have a tale that never ends…"


	6. Chapter 5: The Glistership Siege

"Everyone, report to your stations at once!" boomed the voice of Thurt Grayle. Frantically, the Twilight Marines on every gantry, bridge, and tower readied their weapons.

"Bron, we've got to arm our catapults!" shouted Durix, scrambling towards the weapon mechanisms.

"I'll do the loading!" said Mord, seizing two ironwood balls and shoving them into the slings.

Bron hastily dashed over to the machinery, his heart pounding. The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was coming! It was time for his first battle.

After the equipment was loaded, the three of them stood, tensely waiting for the arrival of the dreaded glistership. The _Vilnix Pompolnius _was still far, far away. It would take a long time for it to even grow large enough to be seen with the naked eye.

The minutes became hours. Bron felt cold, tired, and scared. Having to wait for the battle to begin was horrible.

Eventually, a large group of sky ships arrived, entering from the distant sky-gates and coming to a halt in midair, hovering in front of the fortress, pointed towards the Phraxfields. Bron saw, with a leap of excitement, that among the nearby sky ships was none other than the _Squallskipper_, the vessel belonging to the great Raziel Tollinix herself. Would he possibly get to fight alongside this legendary pirate?

After a few hours, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ finally became visible, a growing speck emerging from the swirling mist. The evil vessel approached at a barksnail's pace, roaring with the energy of its propulsion ducts. It seemed as though every single soul in Twilight's Edge was holding their breath. Then, Thurt Grayle's voice boomed out again. "Fire at will!"

A solid wall of projectiles flew outwards, several of them striking the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ but causing no visible damage. The Phraxguardians immediately returned fire, launching a volley of phraxfire globes which exploded upon contact, creating roaring blazes wherever they struck. Soldiers fell, screaming, from gantries, and the survivors scrambled to put out the flames.

The Pirate Academics suddenly launched an attack of their own. Blazing harpoons soared at the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, a few of them crashing into the deck. Suddenly, several small glistercraft launched off from the larger vessel, piloted by the most brutal-looking hammerhead goblins Bron had ever seen. Some of them were shot down, but several attached themselves to the sky ships, the hammerheads swarming the decks and cutting down the pirates…

Suddenly, with a jolt, Bron realized that the _Squallskipper _was heading for the platform on which he was standing. A group of Pirates Academic were clustered at the port side, launching balls of flaming sumpwood tar at the vast glistership. Stationed at the helm, frantically pulling levers and setting dials, was none other than Raziel Tollinix.

"That's it, boys! Show them no mercy!" Bron heard her cry. "Give us lift, stone pilot!"

At the flight-rock platform, the figure in the conical hood and protective suit obliged by plunging the cooling rods into the buoyant stone, which hissed and gave off steam. The _Squallskipper_ leapt upwards, and Raziel Tollinix was lost to view.

The battle taking place above Bron's head was one of hundreds, he realized. The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was so vast, so heavily armed, so thoroughly outfitted with attendant craft that even the mighty defenses of Twilight's Edge, combined with the efforts of the Pirates Academic, were barely holding back the colossal glistership. Everywhere Bron looked, he saw explosions, clashing swords, and booming phraxweapons.

All of a sudden, a great ironwood ball came hurtling right for the deck of the _Squallskipper_. The moment it made contact, the sky ship juddered, listed to starboard, and began to sink.

At the same moment, another blaring alarm began to sound. Bron froze with horror. He knew this alarm from his training. It meant that the enemy was preparing to use their most dreaded weapon of all.

Bron's eyes traveled to the mighty Upper Central Deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, which was dominated by a giant, menacing mechanism. This machine was covered in pipes and gears, and topped off with a vast, pivoting cone, which, as Bron watched, began to rev and glow with internal energy.

"Earth…and…Sky…" gasped Durix, turning to look at the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ just as Bron had done. "They're…they're going to fire the glisterbeam!"

Powered by the energy of the same glisters which gave the vessel its lift and thrust, the glisterbeam was a formidable weapon indeed. When fully charged, it would release a powerful blast of pure energy capable of boring through anything.

Suddenly, all weapons were trained on the horrific device. Hundreds of harpoons and phraxshells flew at the machine…but it was too late. With the most earsplitting roar that Bron had ever heard in his life, the glisterbeam fired.

Bron had never seen anything like the blast from the glisterbeam. Pouring from the machine was a white-hot energy beam at least twenty strides across. For where it made contact, not too far below the place where Bron stood, platforms and gantries crumbled and vaporized, along with their occupants. Violent tremors shot up the side of the vast fortress, and Bron felt the platform he, Durix, and Mord were standing on begin to shudder and buckle. Meanwhile, the glisterbeam was beginning to move up the side of the fortress wall towards their platform.

"We've gotta get off this thing!" screamed Bron. All thought of firing their weapons completely forgotten, Bron and his two friends tore across the trembling platform towards the door. Before they had gotten halfway, however, the inner struts of the platform snapped under the strain, and the structure began to swing away from the wall.

Bron and Durix gave ungainly wobbles, but managed to right themselves. Mord, however, toppled over backwards and fell from the platform. Bellowing in terror, the young cloddertrog tumbled head over heels through the shimmering, searing air, right into the glisterbeam. For a fraction of a second, Mord was visible as a luminous white shape in the furious energy ray, before simply vanishing into thin air.

Bron and Durix had barely a second to stare in horror at the point where their friend had disappeared before the collapsing platform gave another lurch, and they leapt backwards. Soon, the platform would be hanging at too steep of an angle to stand on, and they too would fall into the terrible glisterbeam.

Suddenly, Bron noticed that the _Squallskipper_ was falling in earnest. As the deck drew level with the wobbling platform, Bron saw why. The ironwood ball that had crashed into the flight-rock platform moments before had crushed the stone pilot, who was lying in a seeping pool of blood.

Without thinking, Bron seized Durix's arm and leapt from the platform, just as it gave way entirely in a creaking mess of splintered timbers. The two of them sailed through the air and came to rest on the deck of the _Squallskipper_. Bron heard Raziel Tollinix, evidently unaware of her stone pilot's fate and the two fourthlings who had boarded her ship, shout "Stone pilot! What's happening? Give us lift NOW!"

Bron seized one of the cooling rods rolling across the listing deck of the ship, staggered to the flight-rock platform, and plunged it as far as it would go into the sinking flight-rock. Just as before, it hissed loudly and strained at its cage, causing the _Squallskipper_ to jump higher.

"Captain Tollinix!" Bron screamed. "MIND THOSE GANTRIES!"

Raziel Tollinix turned to the flight-rock platform, startled to see the strange youth tending her flight-rock, waving his arms frantically and pointing upwards.

CRASH!

With a deafening sound of splintering wood, the _Squallskipper_ collided with a mass of gantries protruding from Twilight's Edge. One of its occupants fell with a shriek, tumbling onto the deck of the _Squallskipper _and lying there, out cold. A few seconds later, a phraxfire globe hit the damaged gantries, causing the whole structure to explode in white-hot flames.

Bron collapsed onto the deck, suddenly dizzy. He had used all of his energy in the battle, and had no more to spare. Everything went black.


	7. Chapter 6: The Gnarlwraith

Bron slowly opened his eyes. His vision was too foggy to make any sense of what he saw. He shut his eyes again, and tried instead to feel his surroundings. He was lying on something cool, wet, and springy. His entire body ached terribly. He had no idea where he was or what had happened, nor did he much care. All he really wanted was to lie there until he felt better.

"Hey…are you awake?" came a gentle voice in Bron's ear. He felt a pair of cool hands on his side. Opening his eyes again, Bron turned over and tried with all his might to focus on the face swimming above him.

After a few seconds, the blurry, dancing shapes before him solidified. He was looking up into the face of a pretty fourthling girl with long, brown hair tied into five plaits, and light blue eyes that were thick with concern. Seeing that Bron was conscious, a smile plucked at the corners of her mouth.

"What's going on?" mumbled Bron groggily, wincing as he sat up. "Where—where am I? Who are you?"

"My name is Celestia Drave," answered the girl, grasping Bron's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Durix and I have been worried about you, Bron. You were unconscious for a lot longer than we were."

Suddenly, the memories came flooding back to Bron. The battle with the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The glisterbeam. Mord's fall. Leaping with Durix onto the deck of the _Squallskipper_. Plunging the cooling rod into the flight-rock. The girl—Celestia Drave—tumbling from her collapsing gantry and landing in a heap on the sky ship. Then…nothing.

"What happened after the battle?" Bron demanded with a surge of energy, looking around him. They were standing in a misty clearing surrounded by gnarled, blackened trees.

"After you were knocked out, the tide of the battle began to turn," came a voice from behind Bron. He wheeled around to see Raziel Tollinix sitting with Durix on a rotten log in front of a roaring fire, her short black hair caked with mud, her hard face composed into a bitter smile. "As always, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was no match for the defenses of Twilight's Edge. Once their glisterbeam ran out of energy, the other Pirates Academic and I moved in for a fresh assault. Did quite a bit of damage too. But, alas, I wasn't so lucky. Party of hammerheads boarded the _Squallskipper_, chopped down the mast, and killed the rest of my crew."

"I got hit with the falling mast," said Durix, grimacing and pulling up his uniform to reveal a heavily bandaged chest. "I broke a rib, and shortly lost consciousness just like you and Celestia. Captain Tollinix was the only one left standing."

"Then the _Squallskipper_ began to list badly," said Raziel. "The three of you were protected by the balustrades, but the hammerheads and I tumbled over the side of the ship. Fortunately, I managed to grab onto the hull rigging, climb back aboard with a broken tolley-rope, and readjust the weights to right the sky ship.

"Of course, without the mast gone and my crew dead, I had no hope of controlling the _Squallskipper_. I could only keep her balanced as she drifted about aimlessly over the Phraxfields. But things soon got a lot worse. The _Squallskipper_ got caught up in a gale, and it was all I could do to stop her from being shaken to pieces. I only half succeeded, really; once I had made it out of the gale, I knew that the _Squallskipper_ wouldn't last much longer than a few more hours in the air. I had to land her, or we'd all perish.

"If that storm had blown us out over the Edge, or to some other part of the Phraxfields, we would have been doomed right then and there. Fortunately, I saw that we had been taken out into the Deadwoods. But a bank of turbulent-fog was approaching from the northwest, so I had to land immediately. And so I did…with one more casualty." She smiled ruefully, and pointed to her right. "The _Squallskipper_."

Bron looked where Raziel was pointing, and felt a painful lump rise in his throat. Around fifteen strides away, just visible through the skeletons of the trees, were the smashed ruins of Raziel's sky ship. The hull was split into five pieces, the few ropes and sails that remained hung in tatters, and the flight-rock cage was reduced to a pile of splinters. The flight-rock itself was nowhere to be seen, and Bron knew that it must have floated off into open sky.

Bron felt like crying. The _Squallskipper_, faithful companion of Raziel Tollinix, completely obliterated. What were they going to do now?

"You know, Bron…" said Raziel slowly, "you saved all of our lives. Without you, Durix would have fallen off the platform, and the _Squallskipper_ would have plummeted into the path of the glisterbeam. Celestia probably would have been killed too, if the _Squallskipper_ wasn't where she was. I'm surprised you aren't a Pirate Academic…you have the quick mind and reflexes necessary for the job. Your talents are wasted as a Twilight Officer-In-Training."

"I've always wanted to be a Pirate Academic," said Bron, a glow of pride burgeoning in his chest at the praise from his idol. "I used to spend entire days reading barkscrolls about your adventures with Philbus Venvax, back before he became the Pirate General. My grandmother, Leris Quarter, was a Pirate Academic too…she told me a story about the pair of you battling Xelius Pulnix…how you saved her life."

"I did what I knew had to be done," said Raziel Tollinix. "I just wish I'd sliced off that scoundrel's head," she added, scowling darkly. "And Bron, I think that the Omniphrax Senate made a terrible mistake in shipping you off to Twilight's Edge; you belong in the skies. If we get back to Omniphrax, I will personally put in a word for you…see if I can't get you transferred."

Bron nodded. He was beginning to feel dizzy. He staggered sideways and collapsed. After a few seconds, he realized that his dizziness was due to a vicious hunger gnawing at his insides.

"Bron!" exclaimed Celestia, alarmed, dashing over to him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, but…but I'm starving," he muttered, pulling himself upright again. "Have we got any food?"

"We both had ample supplies of emergency rations in our bags," said Durix, gesturing at two packages lying on the ground a few strides away from the fire. "Tilder jerky, semmelseed cakes, that sort of thing. Celestia had some too, but her bag tore when she fell from the gantry. As for Captain Tollinix, we've got entire barrels of pickled tripweed in the aft store of the _Squallskipper_. Half of them burst when the ship crashed, but we've still got enough to keep us well fed for months. The trouble is, I can't see how we're going to lug those barrels across the Deadwoods with us."

"Shame," said Bron, concealing with difficulty his relieved smile.

"But we'll still be able to load up quite a bit of it in our bags," interjected Raziel.

"Oh," said Bron glumly. He walked over to one of the bags, pulled out a strip of tilder jerky, and tore off a piece with his teeth. "So…what are we going to do?"

"We've been discussing it while you were unconscious," said Raziel. "We're in a very tricky situation here. All of the options facing us are appallingly dangerous. But we've decided that our best course of action is to head for Great Glade."

Bron nearly choked on his piece of tildermeat. "_What!_" he exclaimed incredulously.

"We obviously can't trek all the way through the Phraxfields on foot, and the twilight mists have been just as strong in the bordering sections of the Edgelands ever since the Twilight Woods died off. Our only real hope is to make it to the nearest large settlement, which is Great Glade."

"But, Captain Tollinix, we'd be walking straight into the lion's den!" protested Bron. "The Phraxguardians would immediately recognize us as Omniphrax academics!"

"Not if we discard our uniforms," said Raziel. "The _Squallskipper_ had several changes of clothes on board for just this sort of thing, and the crates containing them were undamaged in the landing. Plus, if we can make it to the Ledges district, we can hijack a glistership and travel back to Omniphrax."

"Can you fly a glistership?" said Bron skeptically.

"I had to fly one several years ago during a raid," said Raziel. "Allowed me to catch the Phraxguardians by surprise. I'm sure I can do it again; in many ways, it's easier than sailing a traditional sky galleon. Harder to manage is that sick feeling you get when you're flying one; they're absolutely evil devices, glisterships…the way they imprison the noble seeds of life, and drain them of their energy…piloting one makes you feel like some kind of monster, if you have any decency. It's like being forced to strangle a defenseless prowlgrin pup. But, as we have no choice…"

"But even if we do all that and make it back to Omniphrax, we'll get shot down at Twilight's Edge," said Bron hopelessly.

"No we won't," said Raziel. "Not if we use a skyflare."

"A what?"

"It's a special, rarely-used signaling device which is intended for that very circumstance. It alerts the higher officers in Twilight's Edge that an enemy vessel is actually under the control of Omniphrax academics. I had one aboard the _Squallskipper_, and I've packed it with our other supplies."

"I didn't learn about skyflares in my training," said Bron, interested.

"No, you wouldn't have. Only the Pirates Academic and the most senior in the Twilight Marines know about it," said Raziel. "The fewer who are in on the secret, the lower the likelihood that the Phraxguardians will learn about it. But if such a flare is launched, the Twilight Marines are immediately ordered to hold their fire and let the approaching vessel pass through the sky-gates."

Bron said nothing. He still hated the idea of going to Great Glade. However, it seemed as though Raziel had thought of everything.

And so the four of them set off. The going was slow at first because of Durix's broken rib, but as he began to heal, they covered more and more ground each day. Celestia remained cautiously optimistic, trying to cheer up Bron and Durix whenever she could, but the two of them were in low spirits.

Bron was constantly hungry. The emergency rations had long since ran out, and now their sole sustenance was the pickled tripweed. No matter how many meals he had, Bron couldn't help but shudder as the bitter, pungent tripweed hit his tongue. He never ate more than a few mouthfuls, and as a result, his growling stomach and hunger pangs followed him everywhere.

The dreary, miserable, unchanging surroundings did nothing to improve Bron's mood. At one time, these regions must have been beautiful, with lush foliage, mighty trees, and a million different things to see no matter where one looked. Now, however, the once majestic trees were no more than blackened, gnarled corpses, damp in the frigid mists. The four of them kept going, occasionally stopping when the mist cleared to determine the correct direction from the shadows of the tree skeletons, marching onwards through the Deadwoods. It had gotten so bad that Bron was even beginning to hear voices in his head. On numerous occasions, he could have sworn that he heard distant, yodeling cries. Though he had never heard a banderbear's call before, he suspected that it was much like the ones he was hearing…but it was impossible. There were no banderbears in the Deadwoods.

One day, the group was settling down to rest after a hurried supper of tripweed. Bron was so hungry that he managed to choke down almost as much as the others. "We're getting very close," said Raziel to the others. "Smell the air…notice the acrid, smoky scent…it comes from the foundries and factories of Great Glade."

"Earth and Sky be praised," yawned Celestia, lying on the wet ground and stretching. "I'm desperate to see a bit of civilization…even if it means entering that horrible place."

Bron said nothing. He, unlike Celestia, was dreading this part of the journey far more than what they were leaving behind.

"So…" said Raziel, "we need to discuss the plan once again, to make sure we're all familiar with it. Once we arrive in Northern Outer City, we try to find someone trustworthy to help us. We'll search for the poorest, most downtrodden-looking resident we can find, and offer him money to get us safely to the Ledges. We'll use our emergency supply of gladers to purchase his services. Once we're at the Ledges, we sneak aboard a small glistership that doesn't have a lot of security personnel, hijack it when it's at a safe distance from Great Glade, and pilot it back home."

Bron nodded gloomily. He knew the plan by heart, but it still filled him with dread. So many things could go wrong…

_No!_ He thought with a sudden, burning intensity. _I can't think like that. The plan won't succeed if my heart's not in it…I'd be letting everyone down, proceeding with this kind of attitude…_

He suddenly stiffened up, startled, slowly turning his head. Sensing this change in Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel broke off from their own conversation, looking alarmed. "Bron, what…" began Durix, but Bron cut him off with a vigorous shake of his head.

Bron had heard something. There was a faint, scratching, snorting noise coming from somewhere close by. Raziel seemed to have heard it too; she was listening intently. "A gnarlwraith," she muttered. "We've got to get out of here immediately. But don't make any sudden moves."

It was as though an icy hand was gripping Bron's chest. He knew about gnarlwraiths from his studies in Omniphrax…the way they could change their color to become invisible, lying in wait…their nine trailing tentacles, and the fearsome mouthparts on the front appendage, which could expand to swallow a fully grown hammelhorn…how they drifted through the Deadwoods aimlessly for years without food, and never stopped pursuing their prey until it was in their clutches…

Trembling, the four of them slowly rose to their feet, edging away from the clearing. "This one sounds mighty hungry," whispered Raziel. "We won't be able to escape. Our only option is to fight."

As if in response to her words, the gnarlwraith suddenly appeared as though from thin air, its perfectly camouflaged sales turning bright red, its tentacles flailing and thrashing furiously, hovering in the air before them, gurgling and snorting as it advanced.

"The sky-crystals!" shouted Raziel "Try to set it on fire!" She plunged her hands into her bag, as Bron and Durix did the same. As one, they brought the pair of crystals together. Three tiny flashes burst in the air, creating a shower of sparks. One of the gnarlwraith's tentacles burst into flames.

The beast howled with pain and rage, and slammed the burning tentacle against the ground, extinguishing the flames. Bron, Durix, and Raziel rubbed the sky-crystals together once more, and two more of the gnarlwraith's tentacles caught fire.

Bron's hope that they were winning the fight soon vanished. Every time a tentacle ignited, the gnarlwraith simply smothered the flames against the ground. Their best efforts were only enraging the monster.

A tentacle shot out and snatched Celestia, lifting her off the ground. She shrieked, kicking and thrashing in a desperate attempt to free herself. Four more tentacles grabbed her arms and legs, and another—the tentacle that contained the gnarlwraith's mouthparts—expanded, opened to reveal a vast hole, and closed around her head. Celestia's screams became muffled.

"Celestia!" yelled Bron. "Hold on! We'll get you free!"

But even as he shouted these words, Bron knew it was no good. There were simply too many tentacles, and any attempt to damage them might hurt Celestia. And now, more tentacles were reaching towards the rest of them…

"_WAAAH!_"

A colossal, lumbering figure came crashing into the clearing. Its legs were as thick as tree trunks, and it had tusks as long as Bron's arm. Its tiny ears fluttered wildly, and its eyes flashed.

"A banderbear!" gasped Bron in amazement. "I _didn't _imagine it!"

The creature brought its massive paw down. With a single swipe, the banderbear severed the tentacle engulfing Celestia's head. Instantly, the other tentacles slackened their grip as the gnarlwraith thrashed in agony, blood spurting from the stump of the severed appendage. Celestia pulled her head free of the tentacle and lay on the ground, gasping for breath.

The monster began wrapping itself around the banderbear's torso, but with another ground-shaking roar, the banderbear cut through several more tentacles as though they were nothing more than strands of woodspidersilk. The dying gnarlwraith made another desperate lunge for its would-be prey, but shortly collapsed, twitching, its scales now pure white.

Bron stepped forwards and pulled a trembling Celestia to her feet before approaching the banderbear. The creature seemed formidable indeed, at least twice as tall as Bron, tusks glinting, her silky brown fur matted with blood. However, Bron knew from his studies that the banderbear was one of the noblest and most intelligent creatures in the Edgeworld.

"Wuh-wuh." Bron murmured, staring right into the banderbear's eyes. _You have saved us from the tentacled one. We owe you our lives._

"Wuh," replied the banderbear. Gesturing at her shaggy, blood-soaked chest, she muttered, "Worremol."

"Bron," Bron replied, pointing to himself.

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Durix, as he and Raziel entered the clearing. "You know the ancient language of banderbears, Bron?"

"Murtus taught me years ago, back when he was hoping I would become a Librarian," explained Bron. "But I never thought I would have to use it."

"Murtus? Murtus _Lodd_?" said Raziel in amazement. "You're on first-name terms with the Most High Librarian? Earth and Sky, Bron Rackis, you are a character."

"Woora-wurr wah," said Worremol glumly. _When the white-robed ones discovered our sanctuary, my brethren and I fled. We forged solitary paths to keep hidden, but I have lost my way_."

_You certainly have lost your way_, Bron yodeled back. _You have reached the edge of the white-robed ones' city. The eastern haven of the scholars lies in that direction_. He pointed back towards the way they had come.

_Then Worremol must take flight!_ growled Worremol in alarm. _Your kindness has touched me, little one. May our paths cross again._ With that, she turned and lumbered away through the blackened trees, the sounds of her massive footfalls echoing long after she had disappeared.

"What was that about?" asked Durix in puzzlement.

"She said that the Phraxguardians discovered the City of Yodels," explained Bron. "The banderbears have all fled Great Glade, and are currently trekking through the Deadwoods in an attempt to reach Omniphrax. But she got lost and ended up here."

"So, the last of the banderbears are on the move?" said Raziel, looking deeply worried. "I guess it's all or nothing for them. But I don't think much of their chances…even if they make it through the Deadwoods, they'll still have to cross the Phraxfields."

"But it would be wonderful if they made it!" said Celestia eagerly, her eyes shining. "Just think…banderbears in Omniphrax! Banderbears in a place where they will be revered and their way of life protected, rather than in a place where they are slaughtered just because they're there!"

"Yes, I couldn't agree more," said Raziel, doubtfully. "But all the same…well, my heart goes out to those noble creatures."

"Wait a minute…" said Bron suddenly, staring intently at a spot some ten strides away. "Look…look over there…it's a path!"

Durix, Celestia, and Raziel spun round. Sure enough, there was a trail snaking between a cluster of dead redoaks.

"We're much closer than I thought," said Raziel. She jogged off towards the trail, the other three hurrying along in her wake. Stepping onto the path, the group turned…to see, framed between the blackened trunks, a vast expanse of ramshackle slums beneath a red, smoggy sky.

"We've reached Northern Outer City," announced Raziel. "We have officially arrived in the city of Great Glade."


	8. Chapter 7: Arrivals and Departures

**i.  
Twilight's Edge**

"Wuh-woor, urawuh wu-uh!" yodeled Meerowa in jubilation, turning to face his remaining companions. _The full moon shines upon my heart, brothers and sisters, for our sanctuary looms before us!_

The last few weeks had been the greatest test the group of banderbears had ever faced. The long trek through the Deadwoods had been easy enough; they had taken their entire stash of food with them, and used it sparingly. The troubles had begun when the blackened boughs had thinned and vanished, to be replaced by the swirling golden mists of the Phraxfields.

The enticing golden glow had swiftly taken its toll. As they trudged on over the flat, featureless rock pavement, various banderbears had broken ranks and lumbered away, howling desperately as they chased after the beguiling hallucinations beckoning to them. The party had been some five hundred banderbears strong when they had entered; now, only two hundred remained. Not long ago, Meerowa's firmest companion, Leeru, had stumbled off, yodeling plaintively at an illusion of his brother, who had been slaughtered by the phraxguardians years ago.

Once or twice after that, Meerowa had imagined Leeru emerging from the distance, calling for him. _Abandon your hopeless plight_, Leeru had yodeled. _Let our paths become one. Together, we will find peace._

"WAAAH!" Meerowa had roared defiantly. He refused to let himself be taken too. He had a responsibility to see his other companions to safety. If he was seduced by the Phraxfields, he kept telling himself, all would be lost. He had to remember who he was…to keep reminding himself of his identity. It was the only way to keep his mind.

_You are Meerowa…He Whose Heart Will Lead The Way_, he had growled to himself under his breath over and over. _You are forging a path through the treacherous glow-fields in search of the eastern haven of the scholars…in search of a new life_.

And, at long last, he had found it. Looming before the banderbears were the pitheads of phraxmines. Miners, Lamplighters, Scuttlers, and Sergeants were going about their business, excavating phraxcrystals for use in the city of Omniphrax. This was the very edge of Vartolius Xax's Empire…so far from any settlement that the workers were safe to venture out here…as long as they didn't succumb to twilight madness or phraxlung, though, thanks to the safety precautions laid down by the academics, even these were exceedingly rare these days.

A fourthling phraxminer shuffled past, glanced in the direction of the banderbears…and dropped his pickaxe in astonishment. "Earth below and Sky above!" he yelped, jumping back from the approaching creatures. "How long have I been working out here? I'm twilight-touched!"

"So you see 'em too, eh?" mumbled an astonished-looking gray trog, marching forwards to stand beside the fourthling. "But then it ain't no hallucination then, innit? If we can both see 'em."

"You'd be surprised," said the fourthling, looking scared now. "I've read that sometimes the phantasms in the Phraxfields can be seen by anyone in the vicinity…but they're no more real than the ones that are only in one guy's mind."

"We should complain to the mine sergeant, we should," growled the gray trog, "If we're twilight-touched, 'e won't have no choice but to shorten our shift."

Meerowa stepped forwards. "Wurra-wuh woo," he said. _We are not lies of the treacherous glow-fields. We seek refuge in the eastern haven of the scholars_. He then reached out a paw and touched the shoulder of the trembling fourthling.

"I'll be a quarm's uncle…you _are_ real!" gibbered the fourthling. He turned to his gray trog companion. "Banderbears, Darl! Real live banderbears!"

"We gotta tell them Librarians!" said the gray trog enthusiastically, and, wheeling around, he yelled, "Sergeant! Sergeant! We got usselves a gang of refugees!"

In an instant, the mine sergeant appeared, eyes widening as he saw the group of banderbears.

After a few seconds, during which the sergeant seemed to be struggling to comprehend what he was seeing, he said, "Well…well, come with me, my friends. Your days of living in fear are at an end. All are welcome in Omniphrax."

**ii.  
The Deadwoods**

Bruto Spleethe, commander of the Great Glade Military, was in a towering temper. Of all the pointless endeavors he had let himself get caught up in, this had to be the most unpleasant and fruitless.

After Lurroam had showed him the secret passage, he had sent out a call for his army to rejoin him. Half of the Freeglade Lancers and the Great Glade Military had followed him through the passage, and emerged in the brambly remains of what had once been a magnificent glade of ironwood pines. Lurroam had then determined the direction of the fleeing banderbears, and they had set off.

They had found nothing.

Whether the banderbears had traveled quickly, or navigated the Deadwoods with stealth, or found some other means of concealing themselves, Spleethe and his armies had searched the Deadwoods for weeks without abatement, and though they found banderbear tracks and other signs, not a single one of the creatures had fallen into their clutches. By embarking on this mission, Spleethe had hoped to eradicate the pilfering pests and make a brutal example that would send a message to every other sniveling wretch in the Edgeworld. Why, perhaps it would even have scared the waifs into submission. Or maybe those deplorable academics in the east would have finally sat up and taken notice. But instead of conducting this glorious genocide, Spleethe had found himself traveling all over this dead mass of trees, finding nothing.

At last, Spleethe and his armies had reached the edge of the Deadwoods. Stretched before them was the undulating golden light of the Phraxfields.

"Banderbear tracks, Commander," said a bone-nosed Freeglade Lancer with a scar across his cheek. Bending down to examine the prints, he added, "They're fresh. Can't be much older than a day or so."

"So that's it," said Spleethe, his low, expressionless voice betraying not a hint of his rage. "They got away."

"Not necessarily, Commander," said the Freeglade Lancer. "There's a good chance they're all twilight-touched by now."

"Be that as it may, we can't chase them any further," said Spleethe. He turned to the half-starved, flogged banderbear pulling his carriage.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused?" Spleethe hissed. Lurroam shook his head desperately, ears quivering in terror.

"You led us through this godforsaken place for _weeks_. And we arrive here to find that your treacherous friends have escaped. Indeed, if you hadn't come to me and betrayed your fellows, they would have had no reason to leave in the first place! Thanks to your meddling, _they got away!_"

Lurroam seemed lost for words, too frightened to say anything.

"Release the cages!" Spleethe bellowed. He drew his hammelhornhide whip and cut through the bonds tethering Lurroam to his carriage. Several orange, fluffy creatures suddenly appeared in blurs of orange movement.

"Wuh-wuh!" screamed Lurroam, lumbering backwards. "Wig-wig! Wig-wig!"

The banderbear turned tail and ran, tearing back off into the Deadwoods, the ferocious wig-wigs hot on his heels, snapping and squealing.

Spleethe listened for a few more seconds, as the howls of the banderbear and the yips of the wig-wigs faded away. Then, he stepped out of the carriage, turning to the Freeglade Lancer with the scar.

"I will need your glistercraft," he said.

"Very good, Commander," said the Freeglade Lancer, springing to a salute.

"It's time to head back to Great Glade," said Spleethe. "Now, we concern ourselves once again with matters of true importance."

**iii.  
Riverrise**

"So?" said Vartolius Xax coolly, sitting across from Xelius Pulnix at the top room of the Great Phraxtower. "What were the results of the battle?"

"Predictably, we were driven back, Most High Phraxguardian," said Xelius Pulnix. "The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ suffered moderate hull damage, superficial damage to the primary aftcastle, and the glisterbeam needs recharging."

"Yes, well, never mind all that," snapped Vartolius Xax, waving a bony hand irritably. "What damage did you inflict?"

"More that they did us, Most High Phraxguardian," smirked Xelius Pulnix in triumph. "We ignited a lot of fires, and many gantries collapsed. Most notably, our glisterbeam dug an enormous hole in the side of the fortress. All of this damage can be repaired, but the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ will once more be ready for battle long before they have done so."

"Then my theory seems correct," said Vartolius Xax. "Their counterattack will be less effective when the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ approaches again…and if they still manage it, we can try again."

"I will order the repairs done immediately," said Xelius Pulnix.

"Excellent," said Vartolius Xax. "Very well then. You are dismissed."

Xelius Pulnix gave a hasty salute, turned, and left the chamber.

Vartolius Xax stood up and crossed the room, stepping onto the balcony. He gazed off into the distance. Far off in that direction was Omniphrax.

"You're luck is about to run out, pathetic dissidents," sneered Vartolius Xax. "We're coming for you."


	9. Chapter 8: Northern Outer City

"Earth below and Sky above," groaned Bron.

He had heard terrible stories of Great Glade. When he was young, he had suffered many nightmares as a result of the horrific tales he had heard about the place. Compared to the actual sight of the sprawling city, however, his nightmares were almost laughably insignificant.

The sky was red and throbbing, fouled by the pollution from the industrial districts. The air was rank-smelling and tickled the back of Bron's throat. Set against this glowing scarlet curtain was the skyline of the city, formed of vast factories and forges that belched black smoke into the heavens. Through the smog in the upper atmosphere, Bron could see the glares of propulsion ducts, the glisterships to which they belonged visible only as sinister silhouettes.

Bron turned his head, and stared at a massive collection of opulent, palatial structures. These elegant towers, he knew, were the government offices of the Free Glades; the magnificent mansions of Ambristown and New Lake, sealed in the protective, purified bubble that kept the air clean for Great Glade's most affluent slave traders and city officials; and, farthest away, the palace of Xelius Pulnix, spanning across the entire district of Cloud Quarter.

The knowledge that such heartless, diabolical individuals were so well off would have been unbearable in itself, but the horror of it all was multiplied a hundredfold to see these palaces and castles set against the appalling filth and squalor of Northern Outer City.

As Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel ventured into this outermost district, carefully disguised as Great Glade merchants, they saw nothing but abject poverty and hopelessness. Most of the wooden shacks and workshops were riddled with holes and gaps in the planks; several of them were barely standing, and there was more than one building with a collapsed roof or wall. Yet every single one of them seemed to be inhabited by at least five or six grubby Great Gladers: mobgnomes, cloddertrogs, woodtrolls and treetrolls, slaughterers, fettle-leggers, and goblins of every description.

Particular scenes seemed to jump out at Bron as he wandered through the shantytowns and squalid slums. Visible through a splintered, half-rotted wall of one of the shacks, a pair of woodtrolls draped in rags looked at each other desperately as their five young'uns pleaded desperately for food. A grubby slaughterer dressed in the gear of a knife-grinder, his face streaked with tears of frustration, scrabbled hopelessly at the remains of his stall, which seemed to have just collapsed. Three skeletal, sunken-faced gray trogs were gathered around a pile of rotten lufwood, apparently trying to eat bits of the ruined material.

"Here in Great Glade, life for a free citizen is easily as hard as life for a factory-slave," said Raziel. "At least the slaves are given regular rations. Out here, the citizens have practically nothing."

"I wish that we could give _all _of them money," muttered Bron miserably, as Celestia cried silently next to him.

"So do I, Bron," said Raziel. "So do I. But we must stick to the plan."

"But to whom must we make the offer?" whispered Durix. "Seems as though _anyone_ would do."

"No," said Raziel quickly. "Remember, we are going to be approaching a complete stranger, and it would be easy to take advantage of us. What's to stop him or her from slitting our throats while we're sleeping and take _all_ of our gladers?"

"But how can we possibly know who'll be trustworthy?" asked Celestia, looking apprehensive.

"I see you've grasped the difficulty of the situation," said Raziel. "There's no way to know for sure, but there might be clues. For example, it would be wise to seek out someone who is too starved or too weak to pose a physical threat, but of course, not so badly that he or she cannot lead us to our destination. Also, it makes sense to look for a resident whose shack is partially collapsed. Harder for that individual to conceal any weapons, you understand."

"But even if we do all that, it doesn't necessarily mean we can trust our chosen guide," pointed out Bron.

"No, it doesn't," agreed Raziel. "We will have to be alert and vigilant at all times."

It did not take very long for the four of them to find someone who matched Raziel's criteria. A grimy, gaunt mobgnome was lying on the floor of a shack which was missing two of its walls, its sagging roof propped up with an enormous stack of what seemed to be Vartolius Xax propaganda posters.

"I think we may have found our guide," whispered Raziel. "Let's see if he'll accept our terms.

In an attempt to be polite, Raziel did not walk through one of the vast gaps in the side of the structure, but instead strolled around to the other wall and rapped gently on the front door. "Oh, just come in if you need something," snapped the mobgnome impatiently. "Mind you, not that I have much to give anyone. Haven't even got much for meself. If you've come to beg, you're in the wrong place."

"We haven't come to beg," said Raziel, opening the door, which promptly fell off its hinges. "Oh no! I'm sorry."

"No matter," snorted the mobgnome. "That dratted thing isn't even attached to the frame. I only keep it around 'cause I'm planning to sleep under it when me last blanket crumbles away. From the looks of things, that ain't so far off." he added, gesturing to a filthy, threadbare piece of cloth which, from the looks of it, would barely cover the little mobgnome when draped over him. "But no matter. If you aren't here to beg, what do you want?"

"Do you know how to get to the Ledges from here?" asked Raziel.

"The Ledges? Course I do. I know the northern districts like the back of me hand," the mobgnome looked puzzled and a tad suspicious. "What of it?"

"We're prepared to offer you thirty gladers if you show us the way to the Ledges," said Raziel. "Ten right now, and another twenty when we reach our destination."

The mobgnome sat bolt upright, his eyes wide. "Thirty gladers? I've never had thirty gladers in me entire life! Come to think of it, I ain't never had ten!"

"So, you accept?" said Raziel.

"Course I do!" said the mobgnome enthusiastically, springing to his feet and holding out his palm. "Now let's see those first ten!"

"Here you are," Raziel peeled off the correct amount of notes, and handed them to the mobgnome, who seized them and gazed at the money in his hand as though it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

"I'll get you to the Ledges," said the mobgnome confidently. "You'll be there by tomorrow evening or me name ain't Mincrock! We'll rest up tonight, and then we'll set off at the crack of dawn. Now, who wants the blanket?"

"No, no, we can't use your blanket. You use it," said Raziel. "We would never impose ourselves on you like that."

"You sure?" asked Mincrock. "Any of you three want it?"

Bron, Durix, and Celestia all shook their heads.

"As you wish," shrugged the mobgnome. "Anyway, we should turn in early if we're going to head off first thing tomorrow."

It was hard drifting off to sleep. The air was so warm that Bron wouldn't have needed a blanket anyway, but his surroundings were too distracting. He spent many hours lying on the floor of the shack, staring up at the creaking roof, praying that it wasn't going to crash down on top of them. Eventually, he managed to doze off for a few hours, but it felt as though he had only been asleep for a few seconds before he was sitting up groggily, staring at the purple tinge of the sunrise that was only just visible through the smog of the city.

Suddenly, Bron noticed something that made him leap to his feet and shake his companions awake. "Durix! Celestia! Captain Tollinix!" he shouted. "Mincrock's gone!"

The others sat up, wide awake, looking around the crumbling hovel. "That little sneak ran off with ten of our gladers!" Durix shouted, sounding horrified and angry in equal measure.

"We probably shouldn't be surprised," sighed Raziel miserably. "The effort of getting us to the Ledges must not have been worth the extra twenty gladers to him."

"But now we'll have less money to offer any other guide we try to employ!" said Celestia, sounding worried.

"Don't worry about it," said Raziel. "Twenty gladers is still a fortune to most in Northern Outer City. We'll just have to be more careful next—"

"Hang on!" exclaimed Bron, pointing through the empty door frame. "There he is! He's coming back!"

They all breathed a sigh of relief. Their guide hadn't ran out on them after all.

"Good morning!" said Mincrock brightly, holding a greasy bag in his hand.

"Where were you?" demanded Durix. "We thought you had run away with our money!"

"Ran away with your money! Oh, I'd never do that, kind sir, don't you worry," said Mincrock. "I merely thought I'd spend that money on a real breakfast for us all."

"What? You've got food?" said Bron excitedly. His stomach growled with anticipation. After living on nothing but disgusting pickled tripweed for weeks, he was about to get a proper meal.

Smiling brightly, Mincrock placed the bag on the floor, and everyone gathered around it, peering inside. Inside the bag were five juicy ground hammelhorn steak sandwiches and a large pile of deep-fried woodpotato strips. Everyone took one of the sandwiches, grabbed a pile of the deep-fried strips, and began to eat greedily. They were so ravenous that the meal was over before they really had a chance to enjoy it. However, Bron felt well-fed for the first time in ages, and his spirits lifted considerably.

"Well, I suppose it's time to head off," said Raziel, getting to her feet.

"Oh yes, of course, madam!" said Mincrock. "Just follow me. I'll get you where you're going in no time, so I will."

They set off through the alleys of run-down buildings once again. Mincrock kept up a brisk pace, and everyone else practically had to jog to keep up with the little mobgnome. At first, the route they were following was reasonably straight, and the distant outline of the Ledges was directly in front of them. As they progressed, however, Bron noticed that the route Mincrock was following began to twist and meander. Originally, Bron had thought little of this; after all, Great Glade was an enormously complex city, and there were bound to be unexpected detours. Later, however, Bron was under the distinct impression that there were faster routes than the one that Mincrock was taking. They were taking far more turns and doubling back far more often than would be expected.

"Errr…Mincrock?" he inquired, as the mobgnome suddenly started, turned around, and gestured back the way they had come. "Are you sure you know the way?"

"We'll get there shortly, young master, no worries," came the reply.

Bron wasn't entirely assured. It seemed as though Mincrock was constantly making mistakes or second-guessing the proper route. Durix and Raziel were looking impatient too, and Celestia seemed disconcerted.

Suddenly, Mincrock called back, "We're nearly there."

Something was definitely wrong. The distant form of the Ledges seemed little closer than when they had started. How could they be nearly there?

Mincrock turned a corner between two large buildings, which stood in stark contrast to the sea of squalid huts surrounding them. As Bron followed him, the others trailing along in his wake, he suddenly noticed that they were heading for a dead end. What was going on?

"All right. This is it," said Mincrock. "We're here."

"Excuse me?" said Raziel incredulously. "This isn't the Ledges. We're nowhere near our destination."

Mincrock gave a wheezy chuckle. "Oh, we're not in the Ledges, madam. But we _are_ at your destination."

At that moment, doors on either side of the alley banged open, and two muscular cloddertrogs leapt out at Bron and his companions. With a yell, Bron wheeled around and started to run, pulling Durix and Celestia with him, Raziel running alongside him. But as they approached the mouth of the alley, a third cloddertrog appeared around the corner, blocking their path. The cloddertrog lunged at them, seizing Bron and Celestia by the scruffs of their necks, as the first pair grabbed Durix and Raziel.

"Why?" yelled Bron in desperation, struggling to free himself and Celestia from the cloddertrog's grip. "Why are you doing this, Mincrock?"

"Thirty gladers may be a pretty sum," cackled the little mobgnome, his eyes gleaming. "But _fifty_ gladers per healthy slave sold to the factories is a _real _profit! Two hundred in all, I think."

"S'right," grunted the cloddertrog holding Bron and Celestia. "Leastways, that's how it normally is."

"N-normally?" said Mincrock, sounding suddenly apprehensive. "Whaddaya mean, _normally_?"

"Way I see it, there ain't no witnesses to the fact that _you_ caught 'em," said the cloddertrog. "We can just claim 'em as our own, and _we'll_ get all the gladers!"

"What? No!" protested the mobgnome. "You can't do that! I'll tell 'em it was me!"

"Really?" the cloddertrog roared with scornful laughter. "'Fraid it'll be your word against ours…but now you mention it…Grag, if you wouldn't mind?"

"My pleasure," said the cloddertrog holding Durix. He shoved Durix away from him, and the cloddertrog holding onto Raziel seized Durix in his other arm. The first cloddertrog then reached into his belt.

"Hey," said Mincrock, sounding frightened now. "What are you going to…"

In a flash, the cloddertrog withdrew a vicious, studded club, and swung it through the air, bringing it down on Mincrock's head. With a sickening crunch, the mobgnome crumpled to the ground, lifeless, blood seeping from his shattered skull. Celestia screamed. Her captor shook her violently, and she fell silent, tears running down her cheek.

"Well, now we've sorted out that problem," he said, turning around and frogmarching Bron and Celestia away, his two companions following closely behind him, "It's time to collect those two hundred gladers waiting for us at the New Undertown Slave Markets!"


	10. Chapter 9: The Lightwood Factory

Everything had gone nightmarishly wrong. What kind of a place was this, thought Bron, where the only way to survive was to betray anyone and everyone who showed the faintest bit of trust?

The cloddertrogs had pulled them roughly through the streets of Northern Outer City, and they had arrived at a small glistercraft. Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel had been shackled and chained before being stuffed roughly into the back of the vessel. The leader of the cloddertrogs then fired up the engine of the glistercraft, which began to shriek and wail as the glisterjet pulsed red and the propulsion ducts roared.

Until now, Bron had never really grasped how monstrously evil these mechanisms were. Glisterships themselves had never been a particular source of revulsion for him; it had always been the people who piloted them, and the nefarious uses to which they were put, that fueled his anger towards the Empire. But now, as he watched the imprisoned glister spark and vibrate, its essence draining into the engines, he understood that glister technology was _inherently_ evil.

It was from glisters that life itself emerged, and as primitive as they were, they thrived on, and reflected, emotion. What if they could think, or feel pain and anguish? Bron couldn't shake the feeling that the Phraxguardians and slavers and military and everyone who played a part in this regime were ripping apart an emergent system, a grand framework older than the Edge itself, and treating it like some sort of commodity. How could they not feel the slightest pang of conscience as they sapped the life out of the fundamental building blocks of creation?

Bron could not remember much about the New Undertown slave market that they had been brought to. It had all been a haze of bidding and bargaining and miserable creatures and persons who were penned up or tied together. Before long, Bron and his four companions were all being ushered through Great Glade in the midst of a much larger group of freshly purchased slaves.

Soon, the office complexes and market squares of New Undertown had given way to the cobbled, misty streets of Copperwood. They passed by a statue of Mangobey Cartshank, the individual who had founded the district back when Great Glade had been a free city. _How would you feel about what Copperwood has become?_ thought Bron glumly, looking at the statue. _About what the whole Edgeworld has become?_

The slave gang suddenly came to a halt. The slaver keeping them in line—a menacing shryke in the uniform of a New Undertown auctioneer—gestured with a single talon at the building in front of them. Bron looked up…and groaned with dread.

The factory was mounted on poles in the distinctive "stiltshop" style of Third-Age Copperwood workshops…but much, much bigger. The entire building was constructed from what Bron recognized from his studies as lightwood lumber. Cut from an extremely rare tree found in scattered stands throughout the Western Woods, lightwood was of the first order of wood and, like sumpwood, remained buoyant even at low temperature. Unlike sumpwood, however, lightwood was hard and metallic, and did not burn easily—the perfect construction material for a factory such as this. The towering structure extended high into the air, and the top was impossible to see through the thick smog hanging over Great Glade. But the thing that had made Bron groan was the complex series of gantries and cradles loaded with sky vessels in varying stages of completion.

"Glisterships," he whispered. "That's what we'll be making."

"Through the doors! Snap to it!" screeched the shryke. As one, the group shuffled forwards, up the steep steps leading to the doors of the great factory.

They found themselves inside a great, open chamber which seemed to fill most of the factory. Above their heads, conveyor belts creaked and clanked on countless levels, and various pieces of glisterships were being assembled and attached. The whole place stank of metal, and the noise was almost unbearable.

A hammerhead goblin overseer appeared through a door at the other end of the room, and marched up to the gang of slaves. "We'll start right away," the hammerhead barked. "Vartolius Xax has commissioned fifty new glisterships to patrol Riverrise, and we have been charged with the manufacture of ten of those vessels. Come forward in pairs, and you will receive your assignments."

As the slaves approached in pairs, the hammerhead shouted out the position they were to take, and the floor they were to work on. "Propulsion Duct Fitting, seventeen!" he commanded a pair of lugtrolls, who shuffled off hastily for the line of elevators near the door the hammerhead had entered from. "Glister Snaring, five!" he then shouted at two stooped fourthlings.

At last, the hammerhead reached Bron and his companions. Durix and Raziel approached the hammerhead. "Connection Quality Control, twenty-three!"

"We'll get through this," said Celestia with an intensity that startled Bron. He had never seen Celestia sound so harsh before. After a few seconds, he realized that the girl was fighting back rage; the idea of constructing glisterships seemed to have infuriated her more than anyone else.

"HEY! Get over here!" yelled the hammerhead. As they stepped forwards, the goblin struck out with a vicious whip that had been hanging at his side. Bron gasped with pain as it hit his back. Chuckling nastily, the hammerhead considered for a moment, then said, "Interior Construction, thirteen. And I'll be keeping my eye on the two of you…"

Bron and Celestia marched to the elevators and stepped inside an empty chamber, pulling a lever on the side into the "thirteen" position. The elevator juddered upwards. There were no doors; Bron could feel the wind whistling through his hair as metal platform after metal platform passed by. At every level, sweating workers were sitting in front of roaring machines, fitting together bits of unknown mechanisms as they passed on conveyor belts, and walking through openings in the side of the tower to walk out onto the platforms, where they worked on the glisterships themselves.

The elevator juddered to a halt. Bron and Celestia stepped out onto the platform, and a couple of slaves stopped what they were doing and walked over to the two new workers. "Let me show you what to do," one of them wheezed painfully, taking them over to a strange mechanism…

As the days passed, Bron and Celestia slipped into a routine. They were part of the night shift—although their resting period was so short that the term "night shift" had little meaning—and, as work partners, they were kept together at all times, but were sent to a different floor each evening, where they worked on some other element of the new glisterships. The atmosphere was hot and noisy, and Bron didn't feel fully awake most of the time. Whenever he got too drowsy, however, one of the hammerhead overseers would lash out with the whip or, worse, jab a sparktaser into his flesh. Every time this happened, a searing jolt would course through Bron's body, and his chest would ache horribly. He sometimes wondered how many more jolts could he take before his heart stopped.

However, his heart did not stop. Gradually he became aware of the unwritten rules of the factory, and, occasionally, a fellow slave would conspiratorially offer him and Celestia advice on how to appear to be working when, in reality, attempt to massage his aching muscles. As they became more experienced, the overseers punished them less and less.

Twice a night, a horn would whistle, signaling a five minute break, during which the slaves would try to shovel down as much bluebean porridge as they could before being sent back to work. They were also given four hours of rest from noon until four o'clock, which, despite being woefully insufficient, was the high point of Bron's day.

Every so often, the idea of escape crossed Bron's head. But he could not see how it was possible; after orientation, slaves were forbidden from the ground floor, so if they tried taking the elevator all the way down and making a dash for it, they would be immediately captured. What was more, since he and Celestia were rarely working on the same floor as Durix and Raziel, there was next to no opportunity for the four of them to try to form a plan together…not that there was any way Bron could think of to ensure that their plans were not heard by the overseers, in any case.

Lacking any ideas, Bron had no choice but to work. He lost track of all time. Had they been working for a week? A month? Five years? The days blended into each other in a haze of mindless toil. And then, finally, something happened that shook Bron out of his miserable routine.

One day, Bron and Celestia awoke from their hammocks, roused by the shrieking horn. Every day, they slept in different hammocks, but they were always suspended from a lightwood beam, above the whirring machines and conveyor belts as the day shift workers continued on below them—their allotted rest hours were from midnight to four in the morning—and praying that the frayed cloth would not tear and send them plunging into an arc welder or gear system many floors below. This time, they had been working in Weights and Ropes, on the twenty-fifth and highest floor, and the hammocks offered a clear view of the domed ceiling above.

The pair of them swung their sore legs up onto the beam above them and shakily pulled themselves up. "Rise and shine, lazy lumps!" roared a hammerhead overseer, cracking his whip menacingly. "Get in line to receive tonight's assignment!"

Bron, Celestia, and the other slaves shuffled wearily forwards, and the hammerhead began to call out tasks. After a few minutes, it was their turn. They stepped up to the overseer, who looked down at them, evidently considering.

"Glister Snaring, five!" he called out.

Celestia gasped. Bron groaned.

"Don't like it?" sneered the hammerhead. "I'm flexible. If you'd prefer, I'll change your assignment to Flogging Posts, ten…"

Bron and Celestia shook their heads imploringly, and the hammerhead cackled horribly. "I thought not. Off you go!"

As the elevator descended, Bron clutched at the side of the chamber, feeling sick with horror. Glister Snaring, the imprisonment and fitting of glisters inside the jet chambers, was one of the easiest jobs in the lightwood factory, but also the most morally upsetting. They would be the glisters' jailers, the ones who trapped them within the mechanisms, confining them to an average of ten years inside the glisterjets before they fizzled out, their energy spent. So far, they had not been assigned the task, to their immense relief…but their luck had finally run out.

Soon, the elevator ground to a halt, and Bron and Celestia stepped out onto the fifth floor. Bron suddenly noticed something that made the bands of dread around his heart lessen slightly—Durix and Raziel stepping out of the elevator at the far end. For the first time since they had arrived at the factory, all four of them would be working together.

Durix was in a bad way; his clothes were torn, revealing angry red slashes across his back, and although he was capable of walking on his own, Raziel had her arm around him, looking grim. The instant she caught sight of Bron and Celestia, her eyes widened, she looked around furtively before hastening over to them, a wincing Durix following suit.

"Are you two all right?" muttered Raziel. Bron and Celestia looked themselves over, noticing for the first time the layer of dirt and sweat that clung to them like a second skin. "We're fine," said Bron. "What happened to you?"

"Durix's rib has been sore ever since it was fractured during the _Vilnix Pompolnius_'s attack on Twilight's Edge," said Raziel. "As a result, he has been consistently slower than most of the other slaves…two days ago, the overseers lost their patience with him, and whipped him raw. He's been working harder now, but he's exhausted and in a great deal of pain. If only Riverrise water was still on the market…but there's no way we could afford it anyway, and besides, I don't think we'll be taken on a shopping trip any time soon…"

"We've been here long enough," whispered Bron. "Now that we're together, we can try to come up with an escape plan."

"Well, we can't think of anything," said Raziel. "It's just too heavily guarded. And we're not going to get much time to come up with something…we're going to have to spend the whole time under the scrutiny of the overseers, and after that we'll more likely than not be separated again."

"OI!" roared a hammerhead goblin, brandishing a sparktaser. "Get over to the snaring-pods at once!"

The four of them scurried off across the narrow platform without another word.

At the end of the platform was a line of towering clearwood bell-jars, each one sparkling and flashing with dozens of tiny glisters emerging from a tangle of pipes connected to their bottoms. At the top of each was another pipe, which fed a tube connecting intermittently to a line of half-finished jet chambers moving along a conveyor belt. Each of the bell-jars contained a curving door on the front, and many of them contained slaves, wildly waving their arms this way and that.

"What do we have to do?" Bron asked a gnokgoblin heading for the line of bell-jars.

"Some glisters in the bell-jars are more energetic than others," the gnokgoblin explained, as the four of them walked beside him. "And they only want to put the best ones in the jet chambers. So you have to go inside the bell-jar, spot the ones shining the brightest, and catch them inside this." He held up a small jar with straps on the side, and fitted his hands into each strap. "Squeeze it to open and close the cover on the top. When you've got a satisfactory glister, reach up and feed the contents of the trap-jar into the ceiling pipe. The chambers are designed to hold a set amount of glisters at a time, only introducing a new one if an old one is removed. If there are too many dim glisters, catch them and press the red button on the side of the trap-jar to gas them. Got it?"

"Yes," said Bron, feeling a tiny flutter of hope. It sounded as though it would be easy to _appear_ to do his job while actually refraining from trapping any of the glisters…which was precisely what he had been hoping for.

The four of them, grabbed their trap-jars, and stepped into a group of adjacent chambers. Bron had expected that the surrounding noise would be muffled, but he could still hear everything outside of the chamber, although the pipes overhead whirred constantly in the background. He looked around at the glisters in the bell-jar. It was like being in the middle of a multicolored snowstorm, with the gleaming, pulsing beads of light twinkling all around him. He stared around at them all. Did they have any idea that they were all doomed? All of them would either be loaded into jet chambers and perpetually drained of energy for years, or trapped and disposed of if they were too weak. Nothing they could do would conceivably put an end to the Phraxguardians' barbaric greed…but all the same, he, Bron Rackis, would not be a party to that greed.

He heard a sharp rap on the clearwood walls of the bell-jar, and turned round to see the leering face of an overseer, fingering his whip. "Now let's see you get one!" the hammerhead barked.

Bron fitted his hands through the straps of his trap-jar, and scanned the inside of the chamber. An extra-bright glister was hovering a foot away from his face. Repulsed by what he was doing, he swung his hands around in an arc and squeezed, trapping the glister. He slowly brought his arms up to the ceiling.

"That's more like it," said the hammerhead, and trotted off. Relieved, Bron glanced around, lowered his arms, and squeezed again, liberating the glister.

And so he continued in this vein, trapping glisters and bringing them up to the ceiling, before lowering them again and setting them free when he was sure no one was looking. He knew he wasn't actually saving any of them—if it wasn't him, it would be some other slave—but he couldn't stand to have any of that blood on _his_ hands.

He snatched a furtive look at Raziel and Durix in chambers to his left, and Celestia to his right. As far as he could tell, they were doing exactly the same as he was. With any luck, they would be able to keep doing this.

The shift seemed to drag on and on…with Bron and the others anxiously awaiting the blessed moment when they would be dismissed to the hammocks, and hopefully, after their rest, say goodbye to the fifth floor for a long, long time.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the first break arrived…then, after a painfully longer stretch of time, the second. Bron and his companions had not actually fed a single glister into their tubes, and the overseers had not noticed a thing. They were almost there. Only a few more hours remained until the end of the night shift. Then, just as Bron was pretending to feed two glisters at once into the ceiling pipe…

"Hey…hey, you there! Girl!"

It was a hammerhead overseer, and he was banging on the bell-jar in which Celestia was working. She spun round, startled.

"I've been watching you for two minutes," snarled the hammerhead, opening the door to Celestia's chamber, but blocking her way. "I don't think I've seen you snare a glister once!"

He seized her by the neck, lifted her off the ground, pulled up her shirt to reveal her stomach, and jabbed his sparktaser into her flesh.

"Aaaaiiii!" Celestia shrieked, and struggled ferociously. Snorting in disgust, the hammerhead thrust her roughly away. She slid down the side of the clearwood bell-jar, and gazed up at the overseer in terror.

"Now, let's see if you're ready to start working again!" roared the hammerhead. "Catch a glister, NOW!"

Celestia looked the hammerhead straight in the eye, her face oddly blank. "No," she said finally.

"Excuse me?" bellowed the hammerhead, his eyes bulging. Bron dropped his trap-jar in astonishment and horror. There was a time for being brave, but this…

"I'll have no part of this," she snapped, rising to her feet and glaring at the slave driver. "I've had quite enough of building these horrible glisterships for that insane, power-crazed tyrant, Vartolius Xax. I'm not going to work another second just so he can throw his weight around more than he already is. And I'm certainly not about to condemn these glisters to a fate inside his rotten, depraved glisterjets!" With that, she hawked and spat in the hammerhead's face.

Nobody spoke for several seconds. Nobody moved. Nobody even blinked. Then, slowly, a hideous sneer the like of which Bron had never seen curled the corners of the overseer's face. "Fine. Have it your way. You'll never have to snare another glister again." He grabbed Celestia roughly, dragged her out of the bell-jar, and threw her to the floor. Before she could make another movement, he brought the sparktaser down repeatedly on her back.

Bron's ears were deaf to all but the tortured screams; his eyes were blind to all but the writhing figure on the floor. Not Celestia. Not his friend. Not the one who had always had the most positive outlook. Not the one who had demonstrated nothing other than pure, unfettered kindness and compassion for fellow beings. He couldn't bear it. He must do something.

Tearing the trap-jar from his hands, Bron thrust the door to his bell-jar open, leapt out, and lunged for the laughing hammerhead pinning Celestia to the ground. The force of the tackle sent the overseer flying sideways, and his sparktaser flew high into the air. Bron leapt and caught it, and, bearing down on Celestia's assailant, pressed it into the slave driver's exposed arm with all the force he could muster.

The hammerhead howled with pain, and kicked out, catching Bron in the chin and sending him staggering backwards. He dropped the sparktaser, and it skidded back across the floor. Regaining his wits, the snarling overseer drew out his whip, raising it high over his head…and screamed again. Celestia had grabbed the discarded sparktaser, darted around behind the hammerhead, and thrust it into the back of his head. The force of the shock caused the overseer to pitch forwards and fall flat on his face, out cold.

Noticing what was happening, Durix and Raziel had dashed out of their bell-jars, too. "We've got to get out now," said Raziel sharply, gesturing for the elevators.

"What did you bits of filth do to Theggut?" bellowed a voice. Bron spun around to see five more hammerhead goblins dashing towards them. "Come on!" Raziel shouted, and the four of them tore for the exits. Other slaves had noticed what was happening. Some of them cheered and urged them on; others looked too frightened to speak.

Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel skidded to a halt in front of the line of elevators. None of them were on this floor. "We'll never make it!" said Durix, casting a terrified look at the approaching overseers.

"Yes, we will!" said Raziel. "We can slide down the cables!"

Without another word, each of them chose a cable, after glancing briefly upwards to check that the elevator they had chosen was above them, rather than below. If they landed on a rising elevator, they would be trapped. They then flung themselves off the platform, seizing the cables. The hammerheads roared with fury as their quarry disappeared over the side.

The wind whipped at Bron's hair. As he fell, he saw platform after platform rush past. Fortunately, they had only started on the fifth floor; they would be able to get to the ground floor before the alarm was sounded.

Bron and the others touched down hard, and the clerk started with alarm. "Stop!" he yelled, sprinting towards them.

"The gates must be locked!" yelled Bron as they tore across the room.

"It's electronic; we can short-circuit the lock with the sparktaser!" replied Raziel. "Celestia, insert it into the panel near the doors!"

Celestia did so, and with a loud bang and several sparks, the door began to creak open. The clerk was almost upon them. "Come on!" Bron urged the door. "Open!"

And then, it was wide enough for them to pass, and they almost flew out of the gates of the lightwood factory, bolting down the steps and into the darkness.

Though the air in Great Glade was thick with pollution, it tasted sweet after all that time trapped in the factory. The four of them felt the wind as they dashed on; it seemed to soothe their injuries, their fears, their doubts. They had made it! They had escaped the factory!

They did not stop running, even when the factory was far behind them. The lights of New Undertown twinkled on the other side of the river. They were by no means safe—nowhere in Great Glade was truly safe—but they were no longer slaves.

At long last, they ducked into an alley in Copperwood, gasping and panting for breath. "We…did it!" panted Durix. Suddenly, without truly understanding why, all four of them were laughing fit to burst.

"What do we do now?" asked Celestia, wiping tears of laughter from her face.

"Well, we need to find a secure, out-of-the-way place to sleep tonight," said Raziel. "We're all exhausted…we need to recharge. Then, we need to get to the Ledges."

"The plan's still on, then?" asked Bron eagerly. "We'll hijack a glistership and sail back to Omniphrax?"

"Of course," said Raziel. "But, if our experiences in Great Glade so far have taught us anything, it's that we can't trust anyone here. We'll have to be very secretive, and find our way to the Ledges on our own."

"That's all we need to hear," came a sneering voice from the end of the alley.

Celestia gasped with horror. Raziel and Durix stiffened. Bron turned slowly towards the other end of the alley…to be confronted by the site of two Freeglade Lancers, shining glister-spheres in their hands illuminating the alley.

"Come on!" shouted Bron, yanking Celestia and Durix to their feet, as Raziel sprang up too. They dashed for the mouth of the alley, with the Freeglade Lancers in hot pursuit. Then, Bron heard a volley of bangs…felt something sharp piercing the back of his neck…and he knew no more.

Bron roused himself groggily, completely confused and disoriented. Not only could he not remember falling asleep, but he also seemed to be in a standing position.

He opened his eyes slowly, and, after a few seconds of blurry shapes, the scene solidified…to reveal that he was standing in front of the lightwood factory, bound, gagged, and shackled. Glances to his left and right revealed that Durix, Celestia, and Raziel had met the same fate.

He tried to concentrate harder on his surroundings. An enormous crowd of slaves was standing in front of the factory, also bound and shackled. Flanking him and his companions on either side were Freeglade Lancers and hammerhead slave overseers.

"…so you see, you sniveling sacks of scum," a hammerhead was roaring, "_nobody _escapes from our factory! And you can rest assured that these individuals shall befall the worst punishments the Empire can hand down. I would advise all of you to keep working, diligently and cheerfully, unless you want to suffer the same fate!"

It was all too much for Bron. The gravity of the situation, the residual drowsiness from the tranquilizer he had been shot with…he slumped forwards, claimed again by the darkness.

The next time Bron came to, his surroundings were far less perplexing. This time, he was certainly lying down, and he didn't even seem to be tied up.

He opened his eyes. He was staring at a wooden ceiling, and he seemed to be lying on a straw cot. He swung himself down. He was sorer than he had ever been in his life, and winced horribly as he rose to his feet, but his crushing exhaustion had at last gone away.

After glancing around the room, he noticed that the other three lay on identical cots, but they were still unconscious. Bron decided not to wake them yet.

He strode to the door of their cabin, and tried to turn the handle. As Bron had suspected, it was locked.

Bron suddenly became aware the room seemed to be swaying gently, and there was a far-off roaring sound. Of course…he was on a glistership.

Noticing a porthole, Bron strode over to it and looked out over the Deadwoods. He noticed that there seemed to be a change coming over the shriveled forest as they sailed on. Here and there was a tree that looked alive…though extremely sickly. As they moved on, these trees became more and more numerous, and now he even began to see glades of large, green, healthy-looking trees. And that was not all…Bron was seeing animals. Flocks of snowbirds and gladegeese swooped through the sky. Looking down, he saw a sparkling turquoise lullabee grove. They soon passed close to a towering glade of ironwood pines, and Bron thought he could make out a giant tree fromp clawing at the bark of one of them.

One thing was certain. They were traveling west. They had left the Deadwoods behind them, and were now in the Deepwoods proper. It was one of the most beautiful things Bron had seen in his life. But there was no cause for celebration. Not now. Not here.

Not when they were being shipped to Hive.


	11. Chapter 10: Surprising and Unsurprising

**i.  
The Dormitory Towers**

Naria Lintrax, Headmistress of the Dormitory Towers, was suffering from a terrible headache.

It was the yodeling and. About a week after the banderbears had arrived in Omniphrax, they had begun to howl incessantly. She knew that it was in the nature of banderbears to call out to faraway friends—that was how it had been for centuries in the Deepwoods—but she had hoped that there would be no need for it when they were in close quarters.

Fortunately, she reminded herself, this was only temporary. In a few more days, the Farmers Academic would have placed the finishing touches on a banderbear sanctuary which, while it would never compare to roaming the endless forest, would be a far better accommodation than either the City of Yodels or the Dormitory Towers.

"Waaaark!"

Naria jumped. There was a white raven tapping at her window.

"Traak," she muttered.

Whenever it was time to harvest the flight-rocks in the Stone Gardens, the white ravens would take to the air as a mighty flock and circle the Loftus Observatory in Sanctaphrax, screeching and flapping in the event which, combined with the eerie howlings of the ripe rocks, was known as the _Chorus of the Dead_. But one white raven, Traak, had never had a great sense of direction. Instead of circling the Loftus Observatory, he always used to separate from the group and—quite by accident—circle the Administrative Tower, miles away from Sanctaphrax. Eventually, Naria had taken in the poor misfit, fed it, and taught it the basics of speech. Before long, Traak had begun acting as a messenger, informing Naria of anything important that was happening at the Dormitory Towers.

Naria rose to her feet, crossed the room, and opened the window. Traak hopped inside. "Waaaark!" he screeched again.

"News?" inquired Naria.

"Banderbears want see Naria," croaked Traak.

"The Banderbears want to see me?" said Naria, surprised.

"Want see now," Traak confirmed.

"Well, then…I'd best see them right away. Thank you, Traak," Naria said, tossing him a piece of barley bread, which the white raven snapped up greedily before flying off once again.

The narrow, cobbled streets of the Dormitory Towers were nearly deserted, as ever. Most of its inhabitants were Deepwooders, recently displaced by the Phraxguardians and rescued by the Pirates Academic, and they usually kept to their quarters, trying to stave off their memories and huddling with their family if they had one. Most of the few individuals who were out and about were the caretakers, transporting food and reports between buildings.

As Naria headed for the tower containing the banderbears, the yodeling grew louder. The noise reached a deafening crescendo as she entered the building, walking up stairs and through hallways, heading for the quarters of the banderbear leader, Meerowa.

Naria pushed open the door to the room at the top of the tower, and entered to find the large gray banderbear positively bellowing, while three caretakers and a Librarian attempted to calm him.

"Wu-u-u-u-uh! Wu-u-u-u-uh!" cried Meerowa.

"How did you get here so quickly?" exclaimed one of the caretakers, shouting to make himself heard and only barely succeeding. "We only sent a caretaker to bring you word two minutes ago!"

"I had it from another source," said Naria simply. "Now what's the problem?"

But the instant the banderbear caught sight of the Headmistress, he fell silent at once. "He's been shouting over and over again that he needs to see you," explained the Librarian.

Although Meerowa had stopped yodeling, the howls of the other banderbears continued from down below. Meerowa stormed over to the window of his room, poked his head out, and yelled, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The noise thundered across the Dormitory Towers, and Naria felt that the floating rock had juddered. After the ringing in her ears ceased, however, she realized that the other banderbears had gone quiet, too.

"He was shouting '_Silence_!'" said the Librarian.

"Not before time, too," said Naria, relieved. "Now, then, Meerowa…what's wrong? Why have all of the banderbears been so agitated?"

Meerowa began yodeling and waving his paws in complicated motions. The Librarian hastened to translate. "Meerowa is saying that Omniphrax may be in grave peril."

"Grave peril?" said Naria, the color draining from her face. "What does he mean, 'grave peril'?"

As Meerowa started talking again, the Librarian once more interpreted his meaning. "One of the banderbears in the City of Yodels overheard some sort of plot from a pair of Phraxguardians while rummaging in Great Glade," he said. "He was old and weak, and had to be carried, semi-conscious, throughout the entire journey to Omniphrax. Now that he's here, he's finally started to recover, and he warned of approaching danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Meerowa says he isn't sure. The old banderbear heard only small parts of the plan, and understood little about what they were saying. It seems, however, that they are planning to build upon an old tactic which has so far proved ineffective, but that the new version of the strategy promises to be devastating."

"That's all? He doesn't know any more about it?" said Naria, frustrated and worried.

"That's all."

Naria didn't like what she was hearing at all. A new version of an old tactic? What was this tactic, and what was different about it now? They had just endured a second attack from the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, and were suffering from heavy damage and casualties at Twilight's Edge…how much worse could the news get?

"Well, thank you for telling me this, Meerowa," said Naria, turning to leave. "You've done Omniphrax a great service…I must report the news to Tesener Burlix."

**ii.  
The Great Phraxtower**

"Xelius Pulnix," purred Vartolius Xax, "You've returned."

"Most High Phraxguardian," replied Xelius Pulnix respectfully, inclining his head.

"Do you think that it is working, then?" asked the dictator, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I certainly do, sir," said Xelius Pulnix confidently. "This time, we killed a lot more of those traitorous academics…and caused more damage at Twilight's Edge."

"And what of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_?"

"I'm afraid to say that it will require far more repairs than last time," said Xelius Pulnix bitterly. "There's significant damage to the glisterbeam, and two of the propulsion ducts are inoperable."

"Well, that won't matter as long as we've caused more damage to them," said Vartolius Xax. "Would you say that was the case?"

"Oh, I think it was about even, High Phraxguardian. They had more dead, but the damage to the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ is very near critical. It'll take perhaps two weeks before the ship is skyworthy again."

"That isn't what I wanted to hear," growled Vartolius Xax, his eyes narrowing and his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests of his chair. Xelius Pulnix looked wary.

"But…there's no getting around it, I suppose," sighed the dictator. "Have those repairs made as soon as possible, or I guarantee it will be the worse for you."

"Absolutely, sir," said Xelius Pulnix, and hastily scampered away.

Xelius Pulnix turned to look at a mirror hanging from the wall. He contemplated his reflection, the light playing on his square jaw and hollow cheeks. "I sense the end is near," he muttered. "Everyone else has fallen to me. How much time have you academics got left?"

**iii.  
New Edgelands**

"_Ah, Verticule,_"thought the emaciated fourthling, as a nightwaif entered his cell. He could not help but notice that the tray the waif was bearing held nearly twice as much food as usual. "_To what do I owe this generosity?_"

"_Kilfitresse is feeling charitable,_" replied Verticule. **_We need to talk._**

The prisoner looked up, startled. It was most unusual for a waif to communicate his underthoughts to him, and what was more, the tone of Verticule's thoughts was like nothing he had heard since his incarceration all those years ago.

Of all the waif jailers who regularly brought food and water to him, Verticule was the most mysterious. Most of the waifs expressed nothing but contempt and indignation as they cast their gaze upon him, but Verticule's expression was always blank, and impossible to read.

"_If this is meant to be private, how can we prevent others from listening to my responses?_" thought the fourthling in reply.

"_Enjoy your feast,_" thought Verticule in response. **_You needn't worry. The others rarely cast their ears in this direction. Even if they do, I shall give my responses in ways that will allay any suspicion._**

"_So what did you want to talk to me about?_" asked the figure, confused and a little apprehensive.

"_Don't go expecting a treat like this every day. It's not easy to conduct food raids, so we're always tight on supplies._"**_Someday, I promise you that you will be free._**

"_Excuse me?_" thought the figure right back, utterly stupefied. He had never seen the slightest sign of compassion from any of the waifs in New Edgelands. And now this, straight out of the blue.

"_You needn't take that tone about it; you surely know by now that food is scarce in New Edgelands._" **_My compatriots, filled only with fear and rage, have never troubled to look into your mind. But I have, and I have seen so much. Courage and strength, kindness of heart, love and loss…_**

"_But how are you going to do it?_" said the figure.

"_Same as always; sneak attacks on Deepwoods grain silos, or, if we can find a tree with edible fruit, gather from the woods themselves._" **_I do not know. My fellows would immediately discover it. They would kill me as a traitor. But I will continue to think about the situation; see if I can make a plan._**

"_Thank you. Thank you so much!_" said the ancient fourthling, tears of joy sliding down his face.

"_Sup well,_" replied Verticule, turning to leave. **_I will find a way._**


	12. Chapter 11: Hive

There it was.

As the ship turned slightly to port, Bron could see two enormous hills looming in the distance, set against a great ridge on the other side of a lake.

Hive.

Once, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, this great city had been a place of fabulous opulence and wealth for all. Goblins from every single one of the thousands of tribes in the Deepwoods had settled in this spectacular city. What was more, Hive had been a place of justice, of fairness and equality. When the High Clan Chief, Kulltuft Warhammer, had oppressed his people and unilaterally declared war on Great Glade, the downtrodden of Hive had risen up and formed a new Council. Things had been looking brighter than ever for this mighty settlement.

Then the Empire came. And now, Hive was all but unrecognizable.

The ship began its descent, heading for the Docks. Sprawling beneath Bron lay a mass of prisons, concentration camps, and crematoriums with towering smokestacks belching black clouds. At the top of the Hive Waterfall stood hundreds upon hundreds of barrelling cranes which, when in use, would drop the condemned prisoners into the seething, rushing water below.

The hills, on the other hand, were covered in shryke architecture: stilts and vast, circular platforms reminiscent of the ancient Eastern Roost, and suspended walkways reminiscent of the even more ancient Great Shryke Slave Market. Atop these great roost levels stood elegant palaces and mansions for the few remaining affluent citizens of Hive—the colonels of the New Hemtuft Battleaxe Legion, the Shryke Sisterhood, Mother Muleclaw, and, at the top of it all, the castle of Bloodhem Spikeflail, the Warden General himself.

There was a sudden _clunk_, and the glistership stopped moving. Bron knew that a dock had been attached to the ship, and that they would shortly be unloaded. Sure enough, the door to the cabin banged open to reveal a long-haired goblin, dressed in an intimidating uniform of black and green.

"Get up!" he roared. Durix, Celestia, and Raziel sat bolt upright, looking confused.

"Welcome to Hive, scum," sneered the goblin, raising his glistergun. "Come out of this cabin with your hands in plain view."

Holding up their hands, the four of them obeyed. Instantly, four screeching shrykes were upon them. Bron was slammed to the wall of the corridor, and felt sharp talons probing his back. Then, he felt a pair of leadwood handcuffs being forced onto his wrists.

"Follow us," barked the goblin. "Don't lag behind, don't speak to the guards, and don't try to run away. According to this report…" he scanned a barkscroll clutched in his hand, "The four of you were factory slaves who attacked your supervisor made a run for it. Well, you're not gonna get the same comforts and flexibility here that you got from your overseers in East Glade. There's a million ways to step out of line here in Hive…and a million different punishments."

The shrykes cackled.

"March!" roared the goblin. The shrykes set off at a trot, and Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel followed quickly. After a few staircases and hallways, they emerged on the deck. The shrykes and the goblin led them up a dock, down a long set of wooden stairs, and into the streets.

The sky was overcast, and a light, chilly rain was falling. It was difficult to tell where the plumes of ash ended and the clouds began. Now that they were on the ground, the buildings looked much bigger. They towered above Bron, the gray bricks and rusting black metal making everything appear washed out. There was a slight fog, but it was different from the thick, foul smog of Great Glade. That city had felt like a dying world, whereas here…here, it looked as if the world had died long ago.

The traffic on the streets was different too. In Great Glade, there had been a bustling throng by day, with glistercraft speeding along in the middle of the streets. Here in Hive, there were no vehicles, and no commotion. Phalanxes of goblins marched in perfect, rigid formation. Here and there, shrykes were striding up and down the boulevards and avenues, less stiff than the goblins, but traveling in much smaller groups.

Bron shivered. He was soaked with frigid rain which ran down his arms and legs. Glancing to the right, he saw that the other three looked as cold and miserable as he felt.

At long last, they were led through a pair of spiked ironwood gates and led into a large, dark building. After walking through the vast foyer, which was lined with statues of various goblin and shryke officers, they found themselves in an enormous, flat courtyard with high brick walls and guard towers looming overhead. The ground was muddy and bare, and the place was dotted with prisoners in varying states of starvation and illness.

Without another word, the shrykes undid the handcuffs, and marched away with the goblin, closing the gates to the courtyard with a loud metallic clang.

There was complete silence, except for the whistle of a slight breeze.

"What happens now?" whispered Bron.

"We'll be kept here," said Raziel, her voice betraying no emotion. "The labor camps and crematoriums are on the other side of the city. We've been placed in a Lot."

"A lot of what?" said Celestia, confused.

"The Lots are prison camps where individuals are taken and left to die."

"Oh," said Durix.

"We may get lucky," said Raziel grimly. "Not everyone here starves to death. Sometimes certain prisoners are removed and executed…but the method varies. The New Hemtuft Battleaxe Legion usually sends prisoners to the barrelling cranes, whereas the shrykes prefer to tear them apart."

Durix looked sick. Celestia stood up, angry tears in her eyes.

"It's just not _FAIR!_" she screamed. "To have come this far…to have been enslaved, and escaped, only to be captured again and sent to this place of death!"

"Death will come sooner if the guards hear you," said Raziel urgently.

Celestia quieted down at once, but Bron didn't really care at this point. What did it matter? They were going to die anyway.

A few days passed. Bron had been starving when he had arrived. Now, his hunger and thirst tore at his insides like monstrous beasts determined to rip him to shreds. He didn't move around much anymore…what was the point? It was so much easier to simply lie down in the cool mud.

Every few hours, a goblin guard or shryke sister would open the gates and drag out one of the prisoners. Some of them made no effort to resist. Other struggled and screamed, pleading desperately for their lives, to no avail. The worst time had been when that mobgnome had thrashed and fought so violently that the shryke holding him simply fell upon him then and there. Mercifully, his screams had ended quickly. Since then, Bron hadn't dared to cast his gaze toward the spot from which he had heard the terrible noises.

Then, on the fourth day, a troop of goblins came marching into the Lot. "Everyone on your feet!" bellowed the leader of the group. "We're transferring you to a labor camp on the other side of town.

A labor camp? Bron felt his blood beginning to boil. They had been confined here with no food or water for three days, and now they were expected to work?

He rose shakily to his feet, now barely registering the agonizing hunger pangs and his dry, burning throat. About half of the other prisoners rose too, along with Durix, Celestia, and Raziel. Several more of the prisoners, however, remained on the ground, apparently either dead or else too weak to move. The troop took no notice of this; apparently they had not been expecting anything more.

All three of his friends looked emaciated and weak. Bron knew he must be little better, but his fury seemed to be blocking out all other sensations. He had to do something. He no longer cared whether he lived or died.

After ages of trudging on through the streets of Hive, Bron suddenly noticed they were passing the Docks once more. And he could not help noticing that one of the glisterships did not seem to be under much guard. A pair of shrykes were standing on the dock, but there was no other security.

Bron knew it was the best chance he would get.

He broke free of the group and sprinted as fast as he could for the dock. A quick look back told him that Durix, Celestia, and Raziel were following.

CRACK! BANG! POW!

A volley of leadwood bullets were flying towards him. He threw himself aside and kept running. The shrykes had only just looked around, startled by the sound of glistergun fire.

Suddenly, a long-haired goblin appeared from the side and hurled himself at Bron's ankles. He sidestepped and aimed a kick at the soldier's back which sent him crashing to the dock. Quick as a flash, Bron tugged a glistergun out of his belt and ran for it.

"Stay close to me!" he yelled to his friends. They caught up with him, and kept running.

An earsplitting roar and an intense wall of heat alerted Bron to the phraxfire globes which had just been tossed in his direction. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the white-hot flames were eating away at the planks of the dock, preventing the half-dozen goblin soldiers from chasing them.

"Down!" shouted Bron as the soldiers took aim with their glisterguns once more. With a series of sharp cracks, more bullets came their way, but all of them missed. The mass of flames had made it impossible for them to see. The shrykes had long since fled as the flames traveled up the dock.

"Hurry!" said Bron. "The fire!"

The flames were gaining on them as they ran, and a splintering sound told them it was only a matter of time before the dock collapsed. The floor lurched, and the cracking grew more intense as the blistering heat intensified.

"Jump!" said Bron, as the dock lurched again, and began to buckle. As one, the four of them took a bounding leap into the air, and landed on the deck of the glistership.

"Captain Tollinix, we've got to get this thing off the ground NOW!" said Durix, springing to his feet.

Raziel rose, and dashed off towards the control tower. Bron stared back out over the side of the deck. Now that the flaming, splintering mass had collapsed, the mass of goblins had a clear line of sight.

"Incoming!" yelled Bron, as a fresh wave of leadwood bullets were fired. He and Durix leapt to the side, and Celestia dived to the deck.

Suddenly, there came a great roaring sound, and the deck began to rumble and shake. Looking to one of the twin jet chambers on either side of the ship, he saw that the glister within was flashing and sparking as a red light began to glow within the tube. With a rushing sound, white hot flames poured out of the propulsion ducts on the control tower, and the ship began to rise.

"Phraxfire!" screamed Durix, pointing at the ground as it fell away. The goblin soldiers were taking aim and hurling the small white globes at the ascending glistership.

The next moment, they all breathed a sigh of relief. They were now too high up for the phraxfire globes to hit. A few seconds later, the orbs fell back to the ground, sparking a volley of fiery explosions.

"Nice job, Captain!" Bron shouted up to the control tower. Then he remembered that the cockpits of glisterships were enclosed, and it was thus impossible for Raziel to hear him. He dashed over to the doors of the tower, which slid open as he approached, and sprinted up the stairs to the cockpit.

"Nice job!" repeated Bron as he entered the cockpit, where Raziel was standing with her back to him.

She turned around, and Bron noticed that she was grimacing. He remembered what she had said about how repulsive it was to fly a glistership.

"Well, I guess we're the commanders of the…uh…what's the name of this vessel?" said Bron.

"It's called the _Mollus Leddix_," said Raziel softly. "I read the inscription on the side."

"The _Mollus Leddix_," repeated Bron.

"This is an evil ship," she shuddered. "Worse than the other one I had to fly. Can you feel it, Bron? Can you feel the energy draining from the glisters? And by my own hand?"

"I don't like it either," Bron admitted. "But we don't have a choice, do we?"

"No, we don't," agreed Raziel. "Still…I can't wait to get off this thing."

"One day," said Bron confidently, "Vartolius Xax will fall from power, and when that day comes, every one of these vessels will be dismantled, and every glister liberated. The skies will be open again for old-fashioned sky galleons, and sumpwood skycraft…and the occasional phraxship too, I suppose."

"That is the dream, Bron," said Raziel, stepping from the controls. "I've set it to autopilot. I don't want to sit at these controls longer than I have to."

"So, it's straight to Omniphrax, then?" asked Bron eagerly. "Still got the skyflare?"

"Yes," said Raziel, pulling a small red rocket from under her shirt. "I have my tricks. Nobody ever noticed I had it, though there were times when I almost revealed it by accident."

She sighed. "We're not flying directly to Omniphrax. The more time we spend above the Deepwoods, the more settlements we'll pass over. Besides the two great settlements of Great Glade and Hive, and the half a dozen other large cities, there's hundreds of small towns and villages, each of them tightly controlled by the Phraxguardians. They'll all want to make an example of us."

"So where do we go?" said Bron.

"We're sailing north right now, to the Edgelands," said Raziel. Once we're flying directly over the Edgeland pavement, we start flying east. Eventually we'll reach Twilight's Edge."

Back in the city of Hive, Bloodhem Spikeflail pounded his hairy fist on the table, glaring at Mother Muleclaw. "And those shryke sisters…they simply ran away?"

"I'm afraid so, Warden General," clucked Mother Muleclaw, sounding agitated. "They will be dealt with. Tomorrow, I'll have them sent to the barrelling cranes."

"We've lost the _Mollus Leddix_," snarled Bloodhem. "A real beauty of a convict-runner. And the worst of it is, this escape won't be the last. More are sure to try now. When the Glorious Leader hears about this…"

"What must be done now, then?" squawked Mother Muleclaw.

"Well, for starters, we can greatly tighten security in the Docks," said Bloodhem. "For too long, we've relied simply on breaking the prisoners' spirits to ensure no bids for freedom. It was a disaster waiting to happen."

Mother Muleclaw nodded approvingly.

"But we also need to capture those hijackers," growled Bloodhem. "Even censorship may not keep the news of this incident quiet, but if it is immediately followed by the news that they have been caught…"

"Ah, excellent!" cackled Mother Muleclaw.

"They seemed to be heading in the direction of the Edgelands," said Bloodhem. "If we can circle around and meet them from the front, we'll make short work of them!"


	13. Chapter 12: Over the Edge

Although the four of them reviled the idea of commanding a glistership, their feelings were eclipsed by joy and exhilaration. This time, they had _really_ escaped. They were going home. And, all the while, they were sailing over the beautiful, vast Deepwoods.

For the first time since they had left Twilight's Edge, they were finally getting three square meals a day. Several crates of food and barrels of water were stacked in the hold, and in no time, the four of them felt healthy and energetic once more. Before long, they were also using the logbaits in the forehold to haul up various creatures of the wind, which they cooked and mixed with the rations.

Bron and Celestia would spend hours and hours leaning against the balustrade of the _Mollus Leddix_, staring out over the glades and stands of exotic, mighty trees. To think that this wonderful forest had once stretched all the way to the Phraxfields—no, to the Twilight Woods.

"It's beautiful, all right," said Durix, gazing out at the rolling sea of green beneath them one day. "But be grateful we're sailing over it, rather than hiking through it. The Deepwoods are treacherous. Any number of savage, bloodthirsty creatures call it their home."

"I know that," said Bron hastily. "But it's not just that the forest is beautiful, Durix…this is how it's supposed to be. This is what _everything_ was like before the Blight came."

"And it's what we fight for as Pirates Academic," said Raziel, clapping a hand on Bron's shoulder.

Having been so involved in escaping from the Empire, Bron hadn't thought about the Pirates Academic in a long time. He remembered Raziel's promise to him, and his heart lifted. This adventure had surely proven that he was up to the danger and excitement of a pirate's life. Besides, after the atrocities he had seen—and felt—his desire to fight Vartolius Xax and the Phraxguardians had increased a thousandfold.

He couldn't wait to see them all again—his grandmother Leris, High Librarian Murtus Lodd, and all the others he had known in Omniphrax. Nor could he wait to see the city itself, with its four great floating rocks, the Stone Gardens, old Undertown, and the vast expanse of farmland and glades in the Mire.

But he _had_ to wait. The Edgeworld was a vast place, and they had ended up far to the west. By Raziel's estimates, it would be a few more days before they even reached the Edgelands. Omniphrax itself was still several weeks away.

By now, even Bron and Celestia had grown bored with staring out over the Deepwoods, and they had decided to tidy up the _Mollus Leddix_, removing as much of the Phraxguardians' evil work from the ship as they could. They rounded up all the shackles and chains and threw them overboard. After finding a jar containing a spare glister, they smashed it open, releasing its contents into the sky. However, they did not dispose of the weapons. In case they ran into another glistership, they needed the ability to defend themselves.

A couple of days later, they were searching the lower holds of the ship, when they found a tightly furled barkscroll sitting on a table in one of the larger cabins.

"What's that?" said Celestia.

"Dunno," said Bron, picking it up and unrolling it. He could see that it was a letter. His eyes widened as he looked at the name of the recipient.

"It's a letter for Vartolius Xax himself!" exclaimed Bron.

"It is?" said Celestia, sounding amazed.

"We need to show this to Captain Tollinix," said Bron. He dashed out of the cabin and through the halls, Celestia keeping close behind him. They emerged on the deck, and started for the control tower…almost bumping into Raziel, who was emerging from the sliding doors.

"Bron! Celestia!" she said, surprised. "What's going on?"

Bron pulled out the letter and began to read it aloud:

_Memorandum to Vartolius Xax, Supreme Glorious Leader of the Deepwoods and Most High Phraxguardian of the Edgeworld:_

_ This notice is being sent on from Great Glade to inform you that the materials required for the repair of the sky ship _Vilnix Pompolnius_ are set to arrive at Riverrise on schedule. The shipment shall be sufficient to cover all of said repairs, including the damage to the primary channeling tube of the glisterbeam and the lower bodies of the fifth and sixth propulsion ducts._

_ Upon proper installation of these materials, the sky ship _Vilnix Pompolnius_ will be fully skyworthy once more, allowing the Phraxguardians and the Great Glade Military to resume their campaign of assault on Twilight's Edge in western Omniphrax._

_ In addition, the United Leagues of East Glade Manufacturing Facilities would like to wish you the swiftest and easiest of victories in your attempt to wear down the defenses of Omniphrax, as we understand that the ultimate destruction of Omniphrax will put an end to all resistance against the Empire._

_ Written in the utmost sincerity,_

_ The United Leagues of Great Glade, Leagues of East Glade Manufacturing Facilities Division_

Bron lowered the barkscroll. Nobody spoke for several seconds. Everyone looked pale and grim.

"So, Vartolius Xax is trying a new strategy," muttered Raziel finally. "He'll just keep pounding Twilight's Edge again and again."

"What will that mean?" said Celestia, sounding apprehensive.

"It means that at this rate, Omniphrax is done for," said Raziel. "The Phraxguardians have the entire Deepwoods at their command…all the soldiers and materials they could possibly want. If they keep repairing the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ and attack repeatedly, we'll suffer a lot more damage than he does…and eventually, Twilight's Edge will be torn up enough so that it can no longer hold back invasions. The Phraxguardians will be able to sweep across Omniphrax unimpeded, slaughtering everyone in their path."

They all looked at each other, ashen faced. "What do we do?" said Bron.

"Well, the good news is that we know what the Empire is up to," said Raziel. "But I don't know what we can do about it. All we can really do is get to Omniphrax and alert the Senate. Who knows? Maybe we'll think of something."

But Bron could tell that Raziel didn't believe what she was saying. None of them believed that there was anything they could do. Vartolius Xax's plan was simple, but brutish and seemingly unstoppable.

Bron suddenly became aware that the air was growing misty and cold. Looking down at the ground, he saw that the trees were thinning, giving way to a flat, rocky landscape.

"We're in the Edgelands," said Raziel. "I've got to go and reset the autopilot to take us east." She scurried away. Durix left too, looking sick with dread. Celestia and Bron were left staring at each other.

"Do you think we've got a chance, Bron?" said Celestia, her eyes wide with anxiety.

Bron seized her hands in his. "I don't know," he said, looking at her. "It's going to take a miracle. But, who knows? Maybe we'll get one."

And now, the Edge itself came into view. The Edgeland pavement simply fell away into the impenetrable blackness surrounding them. Suddenly, the _Mollus Leddix_ began to turn. The strong gusts and currents buffeted the ship as they fought against the wind. Suddenly, as the fog temporarily lessened and Bron looked around, he noticed something. There was something glowing out over the Edge.

He turned and dashed for the control tower. A confused Celestia followed behind him, and they dashed through the sliding doors and up the staircase. Bursting into the cockpit, where Raziel was flipping dials and switches, Bron said, "Captain! Look! There's something out there, a few hundred strides to the north!"

Raziel looked in the direction Bron was pointing, and the color drained from her face. "That's another glistership," she said. "And it's coming straight towards us!"

She toggled a large switch at the top of the control panel, and seized a directional stick in her hands. "We're going to have to manually fight this thing!"

The enemy ship loomed from the darkness, pulsing with energy, and swooped in beside them. Several crossbow bolts struck the side of the _Mollus Leddix_, causing it to lurch slightly.

"What kind of weapons have we got?" said Durix frantically, tearing into the cockpit.

"Not many," said Raziel. "This ship wasn't designed for combat."

"Well, let's give them a taste of whatever we _do_ have!" said Bron fiercely.

Raziel pressed a button. A few phraxfire globes flew at the other ship, exploding on their deck, but the hammerhead goblins on board hastily extinguished the flames.

Suddenly, the other ship released several of their own phraxfire globes. The four of them felt the bombs tear into the hull of their ship. Flames were pouring out of the side of the _Mollus Leddix_, and the ship began to list to port…towards the Edge.

"How do we put out the flames?" screamed Durix.

"The water barrels should do it, but we haven't got time!" said Raziel desperately. "First we'll have to get rid of this other ship!"

She pressed the phraxfire button again, but nothing happened. They had used up their supply. Frantically, she tried to steer the _Mollus Leddix_ back on course, but the ship was now drifting over the side of the Edge cliff, towards open sky. The steering system appeared to be damaged.

Another volley of phraxfire globes flew towards the _Mollus Leddix_. Once again, the glistership shuddered violently as the explosions ripped into the side, and the listing grew worse.

Suddenly, one of the phraxfire globes collided with the left glisterjet. There was a tremendous BANG, and the clearwood jet chamber shattered. The steady red glow of the glisterjet was replaced by wild, brilliant flashes of rainbow light as the glister within escaped into the blackness. Instantly, the _Mollus Leddix_ began to sink below the level of the cliff. Its job done, the other ship turned and set off for the Deepwoods.

Frantically, Raziel pulled another lever, boosting the other glisterjet to twice its power. The starboard propulsion ducts screamed and the glow from the jet chamber became blinding. "Come on…come on…" coaxed Raziel, sweat pouring down her face. Through the swirling mists, the cliff edge came into view once more.

The stress was too much for starboard jet chamber. The glister within died completely, and the glisterjet flashed and died completely. The _Mollus Leddix_ was in freefall! Down it went, gathering speed, plunging into the blackness below the Edge.

Celestia and Durix screamed. Raziel tugged fruitlessly on the controls. Bron held on as the glistership plummeted.

"We've got to get to the glow-skiffs!" yelled Raziel, dashing for the door. "We can use them to abandon ship and control our descent!"

Fighting the terrifying weightlessness of their fall, they pulled themselves down the stairs of the control tower. "Through there!" shouted Raziel, pointing to a hatch they had never been through before. Beyond the hatch, they found a small emergency glistercraft suspended between the dead propulsion ducts. In response to the freefall, the craft had automatically lit up, ready to jettison in an instant.

"We'll have to jump!" screamed Raziel over the roaring and howling of the wind. "But we only have one shot! If we miss the raft, we'll separate from the ship!"

Praying to Earth and Sky that they would make it, they leapt forward…and landed squarely in the glow-skiff. Raziel pulled a lever at the rear, and with a snap and a _whoosh_, the small craft split from the _Mollus Leddix_. Bron felt no change in speed—if anything, they seemed to be accelerating—but Raziel was able to steer the ship, and the light of the small glisterjet cast a surprisingly strong glow over their surroundings. Bron could just make out the side of the Edge cliff as they continued to plunge down.

All at once, over the screaming rush of wind, Bron heard an earsplitting crash. From the faint light of the glow-skiff, Bron saw that the rock was changing—it was no longer a sheer vertical drop, but a steep slope. As they continued to descend, he saw thousands of pieces of the smashed _Mollus Leddix_ tumbling down the side of the rock face.

"We escaped just in time," said Raziel shakily. "We've reached the level of the Edge cliff known as the Great Fluted Decline—the level where the rock starts to become more of a slope. It looks like the _Mollus Leddix_ just smashed into the slope."

"Why are we still going down?" said Durix in panic. "Why can't we go up again?"

"If we tried to reverse direction, we'd overwhelm the glisterjet. You saw what happened back up there. And then we'd be dead for sure. These glow-skiffs are designed to get the crew of a ship down to the ground safely, and can't handle a powerful ascent."

"But what's to stop us dying down at the bottom, even if we do manage to land safely?" asked Celestia. "We've got no food, no water, and no protection from the wind or the cold, not to mention the Edge Wraiths and other beasts said to live down here. And anyway, it was never officially proven that there _is_ a bottom. We could fall forever!"

"We won't fall forever," said Raziel. "The descenders of Library Rock have enough evidence to say with confidence that there is _something_ down there."

But she didn't respond to the rest of Celestia's statement. She didn't need to. Everyone knew that they had no chance of getting back up to the Edge, which meant that they were as good as dead anyway. Bron supposed that landing safely was only a gut reaction born of their raw instinct for survival.

The glow-skiff was dropping far more quickly than they would have fallen on their own. Raziel was gunning the engine to ensure faster landing. Even as it was, however, they spent hours dropping. The cold wind was inescapable. It flooded Bron's ears and eyes, and seeped through his skin as though they were underwater. The atmosphere was heady and misty, and Bron felt as though it was dulling his senses. Every so often, he heard the muffled screeches of unknown monsters as they came close. However, they were moving so quickly that nothing chased them.

Eventually, the Great Fluted Decline became less and less steep. Raziel started to slow the descent, redirecting the glow-skiff so that it was traveling forward as well as down. Before long, the Fluted Decline had ended entirely, giving way to a straight sloping expanse which continued beyond their sight. Bron had no idea how close they were to the bottom. He could barely think at all; the icy mist seemed to be deadening his mind.

Slowly but surely, the slope was leveling out. As it did so, Raziel made the glow-skiff fly slower and slower. It seemed that they were getting close to their destination, although Bron didn't know how he felt about the end of their flight. It would certainly be a relief to stop falling, but what would they do when they finally landed?

Suddenly, Bron could see the bottom. The jagged rock gave way to a barren, utterly smooth stone plane. Raziel brought the glow-skiff to the bottom, and touched down. The light from the glisterjet flickered and died. Everything was pitch black.

"Well…this is it," came Raziel's voice, cutting across the eerie wailing of the wind. "We're at the bottom of the Edge cliff."

Of all the situations they had landed themselves in, none of them had seemed as final, as desperate, as inescapable. They were all alone in a place without light, warmth, or life. There was nothing here. Nothing, except…

"Look!" Bron cried out, pointing. "I see light!"

Then he realized that his arm was invisible in the blackness, and lowered it. His sheepishness, however, failed to dull the surge of excitement. He could see a tiny, faint glow somewhere far away…or was it close by? He had no perception of space here in the absolute darkness. But then, he reasoned, it couldn't be _that_ far away, or it would be invisible in the mist.

After a few moments, Raziel and Celestia gasped. Evidently, they had seen it too. "Where…I can't…_ohhhh_!" said Durix. "Yeah, there it is!"

"What is it?" said Celestia, puzzled.

"I don't know, but there's nothing else for it," said Bron. "Let's check it out."

They set off, their footsteps and ragged breathing the only indication of each others' locations. As the light began to appear larger, Bron suddenly noticed that the air was changing around them. The air was a little warmer, and the rushing wind felt more like a slight breeze. What was more, the wind sounded different, as though it was blowing around a bunch of large objects…or buildings…

"_What is this?_" A sudden, sibilant hiss sounded in Bron's mind. "_Intruders? Spies?_"

There was a pause, during which Bron felt an unpleasant sensation, as though icy hands were sifting through his thoughts. He shuddered, and faint noises from the others indicated that they were experiencing the same feeling.

"_Omniphrax academics…_" the voice continued.

"_Who are you?_" Bron thought. If this invisible creature could make itself heard inside Bron's mind, surely he could make himself heard inside the mind of the creature.

"_I am Tintifuce,_" said the hissing voice. "_And I know your names. Durix Hentadile… Celestia Drave… Raziel Tollinix… Bron Rackis. Yes,_" he said, sensing their surprise, "_I am a waif_."

Bron's mind was racing. They had encountered a waif. This could mean only one thing—and Tintifuce promptly confirmed it.

"_Yes, Bron Rackis,_" he whispered in his mind. "_This is New Edgelands_."


	14. Chapter 13: Kilfitresse

Bron could hardly believe their luck. They were saved! They had ended up in the only other settlement besides Omniphrax that opposed the Empire. If the legends were to be believed, the waifs of New Edgelands had a fleet of sumpwood skycraft, treated with no less than twenty coats of stabilizing varnish—enough for the skycraft to withstand the battering, relentless winds below the Edge. Surely the waifs would sympathize with them…would help them get back to Omniphrax, possibly aboard their miraculous skycraft.

"_Let's not get ahead of ourselves,_" said Tintifuce, reading Bron's thoughts. Bron shivered. He knew that he must keep a calm, level head while conversing with waifs; it would put him at a considerable disadvantage if he was projecting overly emotional thoughts of any sort.

It felt warmer and calmer inside the settlement. Bron wondered what caused this peculiar anomaly.

"_We have constructed our buildings to divert the wind into a ring around the city, creating an area of relative calm within,_" explained Tintifuce. He suddenly directed his attention to Raziel. "_You desire to speak to our leader. Very well. Follow my thoughts._"

The four of them set off, following Tintifuce as he occasionally threw his thoughts from his current location. Bron suddenly noticed where the light was coming from; it was shining out of a window at the top of one of the invisible buildings. However, no light shone from anywhere else as far as Bron could see. What was the source of that light, he wondered?

"_That is our business_," said Tintifuce sternly. Bron jumped; he had to stop his mind from wandering like that.

"_Who is your leader?_" thought Bron.

"_Her name is Kilfitresse_," answered Tintifuce. His thoughts seemed to come from a place to Bron's right. He quickly redirected himself, and some shuffling sounds behind him indicated that Durix, Celestia, and Raziel had done the same.

A sudden reduction in the volume of the wind, combined with an echoing quality to Bron's footsteps, alerted him to the fact that they were now inside one of the buildings. Bron listened for Tintifuce, but he was no longer projecting his thoughts. Where had he gone?

Then, another voice spoke inside Bron's head_…_a softer voice. "_Greetings_," said the voice. "_You are the only outsiders to ever find our city, except…_"

The voice broke off suddenly. A pause, and then the voice continued. "_Oh, my. So much suffering. I can see it in your minds. Lost in the Deadwoods…enslaved in Great Glade…starving in the prison in Hive…and…being shot down…_"

Bron tried to keep his thoughts blank, but his chest was exploding with happiness and warmth. After all this time, they had found an ally…someone who could help!

Another silence. Then, the voice of Kilfitresse spoke again. "_You are resilient, strong-willed…you will never give up. Very well then…the best of luck to you._"

There was another silence, heavier than the last. Bron was confused. What did she mean?

"_That's all?_" he thought in reply. "_But aren't you going to help us?_"

"_No._" Kilfitresse's thoughts were now curt and sharp. "_We will not help._"

Bron was horrified. He knew his companions were also thinking the same as he was. "_Why can't you help?_"

"_We are a neutral people__,_" said Kilfitresse. _It is what has kept us alive all these centuries. We do not align ourselves with the dictator, Vartolius Xax…but we shall not directly interfere with these matters. We only do what is necessary for our survival._"

"_But Vartolius Xax tried to kill you all!_" thought Bron. "_Surely you must support the aims of Omniphrax!_"

"_I suppose if it came down to the two sides, we would,_" replied Kilfitresse. "_But things are rarely that simple. Down here, there's no room for accommodations and favors._"

Bron fought to keep a grip on his temper. He knew that getting angry at Kilfitresse would only make things worse…but he couldn't control the tide of fury in his mind. After all of their suffering, their plans, their failures and setbacks, they had finally found the only other society opposed to the Empire…and were turned away. The waifs had effectively sentenced Bron and his companions to death…and it was so horribly, appallingly unfair!

"_That…will…do!_" Kilfitresse's voice cut through Bron's head, as cold as the rushing winds around the city. Bron took a step back. "_Choose your next thought carefully, Bron Rackis. _Kilfitresse continued, menace in her voice now. _You have a dozen blowpipes trained on you. My guards are quite ready to put a blackroot oil dart in your neck._"

Bron carefully tried to empty his mind…to calm himself.

"_Better,_" said Kilfitresse. "_And you, Durix Hentadile. You too. That's it._"

Another pause.

"_We will not banish you from the city,_" she said. "_You are free to stay here. But do not expect sustenance or shelter. And do not ask for our help again._"

"_Take ten paces backward,_" came another waif voice in Bron's head. He, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel obeyed, and they knew from the increased volume of the howling wind around the city that they were back outside.

Bron didn't know what they were supposed to do now. What was the point of staying here? It would only delay death a short while, if they weren't going to be given food or water. And how would he be able to keep the frustration out of his head? He didn't feel it was wise to test the waifs' patience any more.

"_Excuse me, outsiders,_" hissed a new voice to Bron's right. **_Don't despair, for all is not lost._**

"_Who are you?_" thought Bron.

"_I am Verticule__,_" replied the voice. **_I am communicating my underthoughts to you all. My fellows can only hear my surface thoughts. Try not to think anything that suggests I am telling you anything more than it appears._**

"_What do you want with us?_" thought Bron, confused.

"_Nothing whatsoever,_"responded Verticule. "_Kilfitresse has spoken. You had best leave the Central Courtyard._" **_I am not so short-sighted as my brethren. They may be content not to get involved, but I believe that in doing so they are assisting the Empire, which wants you dead, and whose job Kilfitresse has seen fit to finish._**

"_Do you mean what I think you mean?_" said Bron, excitement flooding him once again.

"_I mean what I said: leave the Central Courtyard. Or I will have to call security,_" said Verticule. **_Yes; I will help you escape. But first, there is someone I must introduce you to. Follow my underthoughts._**

Bron and the others followed, listening to the occasional covert thought up ahead. Verticule led them towards the building with the glowing window. Soon, they were inside, and now they were walking up a flight of stairs.

"_There…now we can think freely,_" said Verticule. "_The other waifs never listen in this direction if they can help it._"

_ "Why not?_" Bron asked.

"_Because they fear our prisoner as much as they detest him._"

"_Prisoner?_"

Verticule swung a door open, and for the first time since Bron and his companions had landed at the base of the Edge cliff, their surroundings became brightly illuminated. Bron had to shield his eyes for a moment. He then looked around. Verticule revealed himself to be a short, wiry nightwaif. But Bron only spared a glance at Verticule before looking in amazement at the source of the light itself.

Sitting on the floor of the small, stone room was an ancient fourthling, with tattered clothes and a long white beard.

"_Who are you?_" Bron thought to the fourthling, and then realized with embarrassment that he could not read his thoughts. Verticule smiled with amusement.

"_This mysterious individual showed up in New Edgelands long before any of us was born,_" Verticule explained. "_Our ancestors were enraged that he was disturbing the ultimate calm of our sanctuary with his inexplicable glow, and kept him here. They did not kill him, because they feared the light, but decided to wait for him to die. But he didn't. He just stayed here, wasting away. Out of pity, we eventually started bringing him food. And here he is, still alive today, but kept prisoner here. I cannot account for his incredible longevity. None of us can; it is another reason we fear him so. But for all I know, he may live forever. And to be condemned to an eternity of imprisonment, unable to die…why, even those lost in the Phraxfields have a better fate. After all, those ancient wanderers quickly lose their minds. Here, he remains sane…but trapped. It is a fate I would not wish upon Vartolius Xax himself…and my own exploration of his mind has revealed a noble soul. I cannot tolerate this injustice any longer._"

"_So what are we going to do?_" Bron thought.

"_We are going to get back to the Edge,_" Verticule replied. "_All six of us._"


	15. Chapter 14: Skycrafting

"_Be warned,_" thought Verticule darkly. "_This will be no easy task, to so thoroughly fool creatures that can hear the unspoken._"

"_But we have your expertise__,_" said Bron.

"_That is true,_" said Verticule. "_All the same, I cannot guarantee success. What I can guarantee is that if this fails, we are all dead._"

The little nightwaif turned. "_You ask how we are to do this, Celestia Drave? Well, it's all about controlling your thoughts. Here in New Edgelands, sight counts for nothing. We are visible only through the chatter of our minds._"

"_So does that mean we should simply think about nothing?_" inquired Bron.

Verticule chuckled. "_Certainly not. It's impossible. I'll prove it…try to project no thoughts whatsoever_."

Bron tried as hard as he could. A few seconds later, Verticule said, "_There, you see? You were thinking very strongly about the act of not thinking. Since you can't think about nothing, you must instead think things which will not attract the attention of the other waifs._"

"_What about you?_" Bron asked, to cover his embarrassment. "_You're the mastermind behind the scheme. Surely you'll have a tough time hiding all that._"

"_Oh, don't you worry about me. Remember, we waifs can underthink. As long as I am underthinking, no one can hear me unless I want them to hear me. The trouble will be to conceal _your_ thoughts, because only thought-hearing creatures can underthink._"

Verticule turned around again. "_No, Durix Hentadile, it won't be impossible. For there is something any creature can do to conceal his or her thoughts. It is known as overthinking, and, though crude, it should conceal you. You must focus your mind upon something in your surroundings, and, if you do it properly, you will be indistinguishable from the thing itself._"

"_What shall we impersonate?_" asked Bron.

"_Waifs__,_" said Verticule. "_There are many down here, of course. They won't look twice at you. Go ahead, practice being a waif._"

Bron thought hard about waifs, and how he was one himself. Yes, he was a waif, one of many in New Edgelands, and…

"_No, no, Bron Rackis, they'll see through that in an instant__,_" admonished Verticule.

"_What?_" thought Bron, confused. "_But I concentrated as hard as I could upon…_"

"_Consider, Bron. Imagine wearing a very convincing costume that made you appear to be a cloddertrog, and strolling into a cloddertrog settlement with the intent to blend in. But now, imagine that you're screaming 'I'm a cloddertrog! I'm a cloddertrog!' the whole time. Don't you think that would be suspicious? It's the same kind of thing here…if you focus solely upon the thought that you are a waif, the other waifs will immediately suspect you're hiding something…that perhaps you are _not_ a waif…_"

"_Well, then,_" thought Bron, now quite frustrated, "_how am I to pretend to be a waif without thinking about being one?_"

"_You've got to think the sort of thoughts a waif would have,_" said Verticule. "_It's not as tough as it sounds…though it certainly requires a lot of focus. You just need to recall whatever perceptions you've seen other waifs experience, and parrot them. Once in a while, you might want to slip in a thought reminding everyone that you're a waif, but only very occasionally._"

He turned to the others. "_Does everyone understand?_"

They all nodded.

"_Now, let's see,_" said Verticule thoughtfully. "_How do we stop the glow?_"He turned to Raziel, and smiled. "_Ah…when you were aboard the _Mollus Leddix_, you found a Cover of Darkness in the hold. Ingenious!_"

Raziel reached into her pocket and pulled out a black, wispy piece of nightspider silk. When unfurled, it was large enough to completely cover the wearer. She slipped it around the old fourthling, and his glow faded.

"_All right, then…let's head for the Hangar!_"

Bron, Celestia, Durix, Raziel, and the ancient prisoner left the room, following Verticule's underthoughts. Bron concentrated with all his might, trying to make his thoughts sound as waiflike as possible.

"_How long I have been grateful for this place,_" he thought, imagining that he was speaking in a sibilant hiss. "_Sanctuary to all waifs, deep within the eternal darkness below the Edge…_"

**_Good, good, Bron, you've got it,_** underthought Verticule. **_Celestia, try to sound bitterer as you think about that particular aspect…_**

"_Yet that blasphemous prisoner still dares to contaminate our peace with his demonic glow,_" snarled Bron inside his head.

**_Try to avoid thinking about that, Bron,_**cut in Verticule. **_Down here, waifs try not to think much about him, and they usually do so in underthoughts anyway._**_ **Same goes for you, Durix.**_

They were now back outside, the omnipresent howl of wind around the city returning in full force. Bron knew now that he was being listened to, by hundreds of ears…but he immediately pushed the thought away, resuming his overthinking.

"_Yes, we waifs are fortunate to have this home,_" thought Bron. "_A place that suits us and us alone. Here, no one can touch us, and no one can harm us. I never grow tired of dwelling upon this comforting fact._"

**_Nice touch, adding that last part,_** said Verticule. **_Again, most of the things you are thinking typically aren't broadcast so freely, so it was clever to imply that you know that. But still, anything any of you think will be suspicious to some degree, so we should hurry._**

As they scurried down the pitch-black avenues and streets of New Edgelands, Bron began to hear the voices of other waifs, cutting into his mind and disrupting his thoughts. "_You are quite right, of course,_" said one. "_I couldn't have put it better myself,_" said another. Yet for all their polite agreement, Bron detected something else behind the waifs' words.

**_Don't stop!_** said Verticule urgently. **_You're right—they're beginning to get suspicious—so the last thing we need is for you to worry!_**

"_My friends and I are hungry,_" thought Bron. "_Oh, but I wish it was easier to get food here. That we must still flit in and out of the Empire fills me with dread, for I hear dark thoughts all around me when we visit the Deepwoods. All the same, we are still one step ahead of any Phraxguardian…_"

The sounds changed, giving way to hollow echoes that suggested they were in a very large building. **_This is the Hangar,_** said Verticule. **_I know that our ancient friend is familiar with skycrafting; he has never done it before, but he knows the theory from observing others. And you, Raziel, you know too. Now…_**

"_Don't worry,_"thought Bron. "_The three of us received basic training as apprentices in Omniphrax._"

**_YOU FOOL!_** bellowed Verticule's voice in Bron's head. **_THEY HEARD YOU!_**

There was a sudden whistling noise from behind Bron. He ducked, and heard the sound of a blackroot-oil dart whooshing over his head, its deadly tip missing him by inches.

The old fourthling threw aside the Cover of Darkness, bathing the Hangar with light. Half a dozen waif assassins were thrown into sharp relief. They staggered backwards, clutching at their eyes…but Bron knew that they had very little time.

"_Everyone pick a skycraft!_" screamed Verticule in their heads. The five of them each ran to a skycraft and jumped into the stirrups. As one, they lowered their nether-sails and expanded their loft-sails, and the little sumpwood crafts rose off the ground.

These skycraft were nothing like the ones Bron had piloted during his brief apprenticeship at the Library of Wood Flight. The numerous thick coats of varnish, far more than a Librarian Knight would ever have used, offered incredible stability and speed, but very little agility. Murtus Lodd's three-seater, the _Banderbear_, turned at the Most High Librarian's lightest touch; here, Bron grunted with exertion as he guided the skycraft towards the entrance. Now, they were outside, gliding low over the streets. The icy wind tore through Bron's hair and snatched his breath away.

"_Don't let them escape!_" screamed another voice. It was Kilfitresse. She was pointing at them, and Bron knew that the waif assassins were taking aim once more. He pulled the skycraft upwards, dodging an invisible volley of lethal projectiles from the waifs' blowpipes.

Soon, the shrieking, oath-filled thoughts of Kilfitresse faded away. They had done it. They had made it out of New Edgelands, and this time, they were really going back to Omniphrax!

"Will Kilfitresse send anyone after us?" shouted Celestia, almost inaudible over the wind.

"I don't think so," came a deep voice, cracked with age. It took Bron a few seconds to realize that it was the glowing fourthling who had spoken. "Their priority is to survive. At this point, they would only waste resources going after us."

"_He is right,_" came the thoughts of Verticule. "_We will not be attacked anymore. But our priority now is to find the Northern Lower Open Sky Jet Stream._"

"The what?" called out Durix.

"_The winds down here below the Edge may appear to be chaotic and turbulent,_" explained Verticule, "_but there is a complex, ordered connection of air currents down here. Edge wraiths and other denizens of the void rely on them to guide them to new cliff walls; as food is so limited down in Lower Open Sky, any creature that calls this place home has to constantly stay on the move. These currents range from small, regular gusts to colossal tunnels of wind that can blow at thousands of strides a second. The latter includes the Northern Lower Open Sky Jet Stream, which originates at the northern flank of the Nightwoods, rounds the great overhang below the Stone Gardens, and continues off to the southwest. If we catch that current, we can arrive at Omniphrax in a matter of hours…but sailing with a current that strong is extremely dangerous, even in thickly-varnished waif skycraft._"

"How close are we to the current?" asked Raziel nervously. Even she found this plan frightening.

"_We're not far,_" replied Verticule. "_Just remember, don't try to steer. And grip your skycraft as hard as you can._"

After a few more minutes, Verticule's thoughts shouted out in their heads, "_The Jet Stream is directly above us! Fly straight up until we are swept into the current._"

As they rose, Bron suddenly became aware of a high-pitched howling above them. It grew louder and louder, until finally…

"WHOOOOAAAA!"

Bron shot forwards like a leadwood bullet from a phraxpistol. Gripping the neck of his little sumpwood skycraft for dear life, Bron saw his friends on either side of him out of the corner of his eyes, illuminated by the old fourthling's glow, looking as terrified as he felt. The screaming of the wind was on all sides, and the skycraft bucked and jolted, but Bron refused to let go.

They continued in this vain for a few hours. Once the shock had worn off, Bron actually began to enjoy himself. He felt as though he was speeding away from his troubles, his worries, his fears…from all the terrible things that had happened to him since the _Squallskipper_ had crashed in the Deadwoods.

"Yeeeee-HAAAA!" he shouted. He could just hear Celestia and Raziel laughing. Even Durix, who had struggled terribly ever since leaving Twilight's Edge, looked as though he was enjoying himself now. But Verticule and the old fourthling still looked grim and determined.

"_We are approaching the hardest part of the journey,_"said Verticule. "_Exiting the current. Due to the way the current twists and turns, we need to time our move precisely. Too early, and we'll be launched into the side of the Edge cliff at full force. Too late, and we'll be spat out into the sky beyond the farthest point of the Edge, from which there will be no escape._"

Bron's stomach plummeted. If they were to die now, after they had come so far…

"_All right, everyone,_" said Verticule. "_Everyone guide their skycraft to the top edge of the Jet Stream. Soon, we'll be taken above the pitch-black layer of the Edge cliff._"

Bron pulled hard on his sail ropes, slowly bringing the skycraft up through the rushing air. He suddenly felt his hair graze the warmer, stationary air above.

And then, the darkness began to lift. The sky turned from black, to dark blue, to purple, to gray, and then to dazzling white. Suddenly, they all broke through the surface of the cloud layer, and were zooming through clear blue sky, the vast Edge cliff visible to their right.

"_NOW!_" thought Verticule. As one, the six pilots yanked on the ropes with all their might. All of the skycraft shot out of the current at an angle, and quickly lost momentum.

"_It's safe to ascend above the cliff now,_" said Verticule. "_We are in Omniphrax._"

A thrill of excitement, relief, and uncontrollable giddiness stole through Bron. They had really, really done it now! They were home!

"It's more beautiful than I remembered," sighed Celestia, as they rose above the top of the Edge, and the city came into view. Old Undertown. The four great floating rocks. The miniature Stack Cities of the Stone Gardens. The Mire Provinces. Twilight's Edge. After having seen the darkness of the Empire, Bron truly appreciated the splendor of the place.

They came in to land on the bumpy gray rock of the Stone Gardens. Rock stacks towered above them, some of the largest secured with chains and converted into Stack Cities. The mighty Edgewater River ran clean and blue, pouring over the lip of rock to spiral down into the darkness from whence Bron and the others had come.

They dismounted from their skycraft, which continued to hover in place. They then looked at each other, and sat down on the ground, utterly exhausted.

"We've earned a rest," gasped Raziel.

"I quite agree," said Durix.

"_Yes. Your affair is now at an end,_" said Verticule. "_Yours, too,_" he added, turning to face the old individual they had rescued from the waifs.

Bron looked at him. Now that they were back in bright light, his eerie glow was invisible, allowing him to look properly at his features. And he noticed something now that he had not before. The fourthling's high cheekbones, pointed chin, and black hair looked very familiar.

"Your face…" said Bron, speaking to him. "It…it looks something like mine. And…it also reminds me of my mother, and of my grandmother, the former Pirate Academic, Leris Quarter."

"Quarter?" said the ancient fourthling, sitting up straighter and looking at Bron. "Did you say…Quarter?"

"Yes…" said Bron.

"Then I think I have your answer," said the figure with a faint smile. "My name is Nate Quarter, and I'd hazard a guess that you're a distant descendant of mine."

"Nate Quarter!" gasped Bron. "I know of you! You're famous! A…a legend! But how can you still be alive?"

"It's a very long story," said Nate. "And one I still don't quite have my head around, after all these centuries. But I'll tell it to you as best I can…"


	16. Chapter 15: The Lamplighter's Tale

"I well remember the first time that I descended this cliff," said Nate Quarter, staring off into the distance wistfully. "The last thing I saw before I left was the worried face of Eudoxia Prade."

"Eudoxia Prade!" said Bron. "But I know of her, too! She was the founder of Omniphrax! I walked by a huge statue of her every time I was in the Western Quays!"

"Aye, lad," said Nate, his blue eyes twinkling like swamp-sapphires. "Eudoxia Prade. Daughter of the greatest phraxmine owner ever to live. But no statue could ever capture her beauty; green eyes bright as marsh-gems, long golden hair like gladewheat, and the most radiant smile you'd ever see. But she was more than beautiful…she was practical, down to earth, and a real fighter besides that—I'll never forget her resilience as she fought for her life at Riverrise, a leadwood bullet lodged behind her ear. And on that day, when I started my descent down the face of the Edge with the Professor, Ambris Hentadile…"

"Hentadile!" exclaimed Durix. "But then I might be descended from him!"

"I don't know if he ever had children," said Nate, "but it would have been before I knew him. Anyway…Eudoxia pleaded with me to stay with her, so we could rebuild old Sanctaphrax together, but I knew that my destiny lay in another direction."

He sighed.

"Yet it was not only Eudoxia that was on my mind that day," continued Nate, "for mere hours before I left, I had witnessed perhaps the most incredible event to happen since time itself began. When my friends and I arrived in the ruins of Sanctaphrax, we were met by an army of gloamglozers."

"Gloamglozers!" gasped Celestia.

"Yes, indeed," said Nate. "You see, on that fateful day, over a thousand years ago, when the Mother Storm returned to the Edge and Sanctaphrax was lost in open sky, the gloamglozer returned to it—the original gloamglozer, which terrorized the Deepwoods in ancient times, and faded away with the Time of Enlightenment, but was accidentally resurrected by the ancient Most High Academe, Linius Pallitax. It had been banished from the city soon after its creation, but now that Sanctaphrax was lost, it was free to return.

"In its absence, the gloamglozer had also created stone-sickness, which spread from the terrible demon and incubated in the flight-rocks for years. Now, the gloamglozer ruled Sanctaphrax. It made short work of the hapless academics who had been stranded on the floating rock, and revived the Ancient Laboratory, from which it brought forth an army of new gloamglozers.

"Hundreds of years later, the Sanctaphrax rock blew back to the Edge, succumbed to stone-sickness, and came to rest in the Stone Gardens. The gloamglozers spread forth into the Deepwoods, seeking out those souls who couldn't compete in the frenetic pace of the Third Age of Flight, and luring them to their 'city of shining spires', where the gloamglozers devoured their fear.

"My friends and I arrived at the Edge on a beauty of a phraxship called the _Archemax_. We encountered a band of fettle-leggers who were following the call of the gloamglozers, and accompanied them to Sanctaphrax. The original gloamglozer wanted to kill me, to settle his ancient curse, but then…"

Nate looked up at the heavens, "The Immortals came down from the sky. On that day, I witnessed the return of three legendary figures from the past: the great Knight Academic, Quintinius Verginix, his son, the legendary sky pirate captain, Twig, and his great-grandson, the Freeglade Lancer company-commander, Rook Barkwater."

Bron's eyes were wide. Who in the Edge had _not_ heard of Quint, Twig, and Rook? And Nate Quarter had seen them all, in the flesh!

"The three of them destroyed the gloamglozers once and for all…and then turned back into glisters, finally freed from their unnatural immortality. And as I stood there, a chine-flecked rainstorm pouring down around me and healing the stricken Sanctaphrax rock, my ears rang with the final words of Quintinius Verginix: '_the story of your life, Nate Quarter, is just beginning…_' To think that I, a simple lamplighter from the Eastern Woods, could have had such a privilege, such an honor…

"The experience left me with a burning desire to prove to myself that I was indeed worthy to have stood before the three Immortals. And what better way to do it than journey to the bottom of the Edge cliff…to a place many had tried to reach, and a few had come close to finding, but none had successfully made it to? The Professor, meanwhile, was struggling to come to terms with the loss of his brother, Ifflix, a fearless descender who had already journeyed deeper down the cliff than any before him…and the Professor had vowed to give his own life a purpose by taking Ifflix's place. Our two desires fit together perfectly. We would descend together.

"The most painful thing I had to do that day was leave Eudoxia. She made me promise to return to her. And I, in turn, gave her this portrait miniature." He reached inside his tattered clothing and pulled out a small picture on a chain. It showed a boy of about Bron's age, wearing the armor of a Knight Academic, the twin towers of the School of Mist and the Loftus Observatory visible in the background.

"This is a portrait of Quintinius Verginix himself, for I am distantly descended, and this painting, originally affixed to the hilt of Quintinius's sword, has been handed down through the generations."

Bron decided not to ask why Nate still had the portrait miniature, if he had given it to Eudoxia Prade. He had a feeling that it would all be explained in a moment.

"The Professor and I began our descent. As we climbed down, the Professor explained to me everything Ifflix had told him about his own descent, so that I would know what to expect beforehand. It was everything the Professor described." he shuddered. "Cold, foggy, pitch-black, and clammy. The whole place was shrouded in an icy wind. But of course, you already know. You have seen it for yourself.

"We made it to the bottom after several days. The Professor planted a flag and took a sample of rock from the empty, infinite plain at the bottom of the Edge cliff. I had thought that getting down was hard…but it was nothing compared to what we experienced on the way back up.

"Back when we were descending, if we slipped and fell, our ropes would catch us after a few strides. Now, if we fell, the ropes still caught us, but it meant lost progress. And it got worse…much worse…"

"What do you mean?" asked Bron.

"The Professor's rope broke about halfway back up," said Nate with a little shudder. "I lunged and grabbed his hands, but…but I was clammy and sweaty, and I couldn't hold on to him. I lost my grip, and he plunged into the blackness, his screams quickly lost to the wail of the wind." Nate hung his head. "I never saw him again…and it was all my fault."

"No it wasn't," said Raziel firmly. "You tried to save him. You did your best."

"But the best wasn't good enough," said Nate in a choked voice. "And from that moment on, the thought of mortality was drilled into my skull like an ironwood nail. But it wasn't that I dreaded dying. What I dreaded was breaking my promise to Eudoxia, who, I knew, was waiting patiently for me.

"I still don't remember quite how I managed getting back up there alive. It was all a blur. But I made it. And Eudoxia and I were reunited." Nate's eyes sparkled with a faraway look. "We were married, right then and there, in the shadow of the pitted, scarred Loftus Tower. And then we departed for Great Glade in the _Archemax_ with Cirrus Gladehawk, whom Eudoxia had persuaded to stay and wait for me to return.

Nate's expression suddenly darkened. "But those upstarts in the Cloud Quarter laughed me out the door when I told them about the descent."

"Why didn't they believe you?" asked Celestia.

"For one thing, they were always disdainful of Edge cliff studies," said Nate. "Just as the ancient sky-scholars of old Sanctaphrax discredited and exiled the earth-scholars, the Great Glade academics were content to study phraxcrystals—and coming up with even better ways to profit off of them—and quick to dismiss anything else, especially descent. What profit was there to be had from journeying to the bottom of the Edge cliff? There's no stormphrax down there. No money to be had. Just knowledge. And why in the name of Earth and Sky should an academic want to pursue knowledge when he can pursue money instead?" Nate's face was hardened with contempt and fury.

"Of course, even if they had been prepared to listen to me, I had no proof. The Professor had been the one carrying the rock sample. It fell back down along with him. I found myself asserting things I had no proof for, to an audience who didn't care anyway. So, I ended up storming out of the Cloud Quarter in disgust, just as I had done the last time I had visited, and my uncle, Quove Lentis, High Professor of Flight, refused to help me in my time of need. Now, _he_ in particular was laughing and ridiculing me as I had tried to convince the academics of my findings. From what I've heard, he was stripped of his office and imprisoned twelve years later…something about conspiring with rogue pearlers in the Farrow Ridges and putting out hits to cover it up. Serve him right, I say!"

"Anyway, we learned soon after that Eudoxia was with child, and we went back to Sanctaphrax, where the fettle-leggers were still restoring the city." Nate went on. "A few more clans had arrived by now, with plans to rebuild old Undertown. After ten years, the place was starting to look much less like a ruin, and I had four children, the oldest of which was already helping in the restoration project. I was now starting to think that our little project could save the Edge, acting as an alternative to the greed and ignorance that has plagued the rest of the world for so long. As time went on, more groups came, and the future was looking bright. But then it happened. Vartolius Xax.

"For a while now, he had controlled Riverrise, with devastating effects. The waifs had fled to escape genocide. The sudden cessation of publicly available Riverrise water devastated the Edgeworld's economy. An influx of gabtroll refugees to Hive and Great Glade tested the resources of both settlements. But now, things went from bad to worse, as Vartolius Xax seized control of first Hive, then Great Glade, then the entire Deepwoods. Our newly founded city of Omniphrax was suddenly the only free place in all the Edge…and Vartolius Xax quickly set his sights on that, too. This, combined with the newly-emerged threat of the Blight, prompted the continuing expansion of Omniphrax. The Mire Provinces were founded to preserve biodiversity, and Twilight's Edge was constructed to lessen the threat of attack.

"My hopes of a better Edgeworld lay in pieces. And somehow, it lit a fire in me. I can't explain why, but now I felt I had to descend again…to prove once more that I meant something, and this time do it right, maybe because everything else I had worked for was crashing down around me.

"I said goodbye to Eudoxia again, once again with the promise that I would return to her. But as I left, she slipped the portrait miniature into my pack. I don't know the reason…perhaps she felt that, if I never returned, she didn't want the portrait to serve as a constant reminder.

"But this time, I…I failed to keep my promise to her," said Nate, hanging his head. "I never saw her again.

"The descent was just the same as last time for the first two weeks. But then…" Nate looked up. "It was so strange. I still don't understand it."

"What?" said Bron eagerly. "What happened?"

"I saw a crowd of glisters moving towards me from out of the darkness," said Nate. They surrounded me. I was blinded with their flashing, multicolored light. I lost consciousness…and I had a nightmare. I don't remember what it was, exactly…I just remember a vague feeling of dread, like I had learned something about the future…about something that would come and destroy everything, because of the foolishness of creatures who dwell on the Edge."

"Maybe you were dreaming of the Empire," said Durix. "Or the Blight."

But Nate shook his head. "Those things were already happening by then. And in any case, I think my nightmare was forecasting something bigger…something more sudden, violent, from which there would be no hope of recovering. And I'm sure it hasn't happened yet."

"Do you think that the dream is warning of something that will really happen?" said Celestia, her eyes wide.

"I'm not sure. All I know is that, after the nightmare, I came to at the base of the Edge cliff, with no memory of having gotten there. And…I was glowing brilliantly, as if the cloud of glisters had embedded themselves in my skin. Worse still, my equipment was all gone, so I had no hope of climbing back up. I was sure I was going to die."

"Why didn't you?" asked Raziel, puzzled.

"I have absolutely no idea," said Nate. I thought I would surely succumb to hunger or thirst, but somehow I didn't seem to need sustenance. The hunger and thirst were there, and they were terrible, but my body refused to die, no matter how much punishment it took. I lost all track of time. I was probably wandering along the base of the Edge cliff for years. Eventually, I stumbled into New Edgelands. The waifs immediately imprisoned me. I think you've already learned why. And there I remained, for hundreds of years, until you came."

Nate Quarter hung his head, and let out a shuddering sigh. "So there you have it. That is my story…the story of a ruined, failed old man who deserved none of the triumphs he once thought he had."

"How can you say that?" demanded Bron fiercely. "How can you say you're a failure?"

"Nothing I fought for lasted!" snapped Nate. "I liberated Riverrise from the Custodians, only to pave the way for the Phraxguardians. I dreamed of taming the ferocity of the Third Age of Flight with Galston Prade, only to look on as glisterships took over the sky. I journeyed where no descender had ever gone before, and nobody cared. I couldn't keep a simple promise to my wife. I couldn't even achieve death when I longed for it!"

"You've forgotten one thing," said Bron. "Your last and greatest achievement."

"Oh, really?" snorted the emaciated lamplighter. "And what might that be?"

"You inspired us," Bron answered. "You inspired Omniphrax. Your spirit is what every being east of Twilight's Edge strives to emulate. You never gave up. You kept fighting in spite of impossible odds. Without you and Eudoxia to give us courage, Vartolius Xax would have won long ago. Because believe me, as long as even one Omniphrax academic still exists, the Empire cannot claim victory."

Nate said nothing for several moments. Then, his face split into a smile. "Earth below and Sky above, you sound just like me when I was your age."

"Is that proof enough for you?" said Bron. "You're in all of our hearts. And just think what will happen when the academics find out you're still alive!"

Nate's expression had brightened considerably. He got shakily to his feet, and looked around. "I suppose we should go to the Stone Gardens Council Tower. It's nearest."

Bron, Raziel, Celestia, Durix, and Verticule also stood up, and followed the surprisingly energetic strides of Nate Quarter, heading for the Stone Gardens Council Tower. At long last, they were about to get proper help.


	17. Chapter 16: Omniphrax Strikes Back

The next day, Bron, Celestia, Durix, Raziel, Verticule, and Nate were to be found walking through the streets of Undertown. They had been given food, rest, and new clothes by workers in the Stone Gardens Council Tower, and it was time to make their presence widely known.

"It's incredible," said Nate, gazing around at the trees lining the cobbled streets of the city. "I never thought I'd see this place again…and it's more beautiful than it ever was. So…where exactly are we going?"

"Library Rock," said Raziel. "We think that Murtus Lodd is the best one to inform. And then we can come back down and head to Senate Hall."

They came to a halt in a wide square. In the very center was a statue of three young fourthlings.

"Quint, Twig, and Rook," breathed Nate. "The Immortals. And to think I was the last one to see them."

"We can sightsee later," said Raziel.

Nestled between the stone likenesses of Quint, Twig, and Rook was the base of a gigantic chain, extending up into the sky. It was the anchor chain of Library Rock.

"Excuse me," said Raziel, calling out to a gnokgoblin basket-puller. "We need to go up."

The gnokgoblin's eyes widened. "Captain Tollinix! But…but they all say you're dead!"

"I still have a hard time believing I'm not," said Raziel grimly.

"Well, step right this way, madam, sirs…" jabbered the gnokgoblin excitedly, ushering them towards a basked.

A few minutes later, they were walking in the shadow of the Library of Soil, heading for the New Palace of Lights, headquarters of the Most High Librarian and the Library Legislature. Soon, the great building came into view, the sunlight glinting off of the hundreds of elaborately paneled stained-glass windows.

Under normal circumstances, it would require extensive scheduling and authorization to pay a visit to the Most High Librarian. However, the presence of Raziel Tollinix so stunned the librarians that no one made any objection, simply gaping at the famous Pirate Academic, evidently back from the dead, and waving the six of them on through doors and halls.

When they reached the top floor, they found the door to Murtus Lodd's study guarded by a tall, spindly tree troll, wearing the distinctive red funnel-hat, leaf-adorned breastplate, and blue borella-head insignia of a librarian-at-arms. Peering at the visitors, the tree troll's eyes widened with astonishment. "You!" he cried, pointing shakily at Raziel.

She nodded. "We have come to speak with the Most High Librarian."

The tree troll looked hesitant. "The Most High Librarian is busy at the moment. He is discussing the approaching flight-rock harvest with the stone marshal from the Old Sanctaphrax district…"

"This cannot wait," said Raziel firmly. "It concerns the safety of all Omniphrax."

The tree troll's eyes darted to the door, then back at Raziel, then at the door again. What should he do? This was most irregular…and yet…

"I shall check with him," said the librarian-at-arms. He knocked gingerly on the door three times, then opened it a small amount and slipped inside. The voices within the office faltered, and Bron heard rapid muttering. Then, the door swung open to reveal Murtus Lodd, staring at the six visitors, a look of complete shock on his face.

"Captain Tollinix!" he cried, jubilation and incredulity choking his words. "But…but you…and…Bron Rackis, too!" He seized Bron and pulled him into a tight embrace. When he let go, Bron could see tears in his eyes. "I've grown fond of you over the years. Never had I seen an apprentice with such eagerness and bravery. When I heard you had died during a raid at Twilight's Edge, it broke my heart…and that's nothing compared to how your poor grandmother took the news. She hasn't been the same since. When Leris hears that you are still alive…"

He turned to Durix and Celestia. "Am I to assume that you are the two apprentice Twilight Officers seen aboard the _Squallskipper_ as it drifted off towards the Deadwoods?" They nodded.

Murtus then looked down at Verticule in astonishment, who promptly answered the Most High Librarian's unspoken question aloud. "I helped them escape from New Edgelands."

"New Edgelands?" cried Murtus in astonishment.

"It's a very, very long story," said Bron.

Murtus now turned to the last individual in the group. "And who are you?"

"I am someone whose nightmare has finally reached an end, thanks to the help of these brave souls," he replied.

"This is Nate Quarter," said Raziel. "He has been imprisoned in New Edgelands for nearly five hundred years."

Murtus swayed on the spot, clutching the door frame for support. "I…I…" he spluttered, "I don't understand any of this. I need to hear the whole story."

"You must," agreed Nate urgently.

"We've discovered something terrible," said Bron. "Something that could spell the end of Omniphrax…something that is already happening. I don't know what can be done about it, but the Senate must be warned."

Murtus's face drained of color. "I…well, all right," He turned to a man dressed in the robes of a Sanctaphrax raintaster. "I'm sorry, Prosperix, but we shall have to discuss the flight-rock harvest some other time. For now, take your queries to Viceroy Nemulis."

The indignant stone marshal looked as though he wanted to protest, but after a glare from Murtus, he rose to his feet, departed the office, and trotted past the six visitors, throwing them a resentful scowl.

"Now, then," said Murtus urgently, ushering Bron, Celestia, Durix, Raziel, Verticule, and Nate into his office and closing the door behind him. "Tell me everything…"

Two days later, the governing bodies of Omniphrax were all gathered in Senate Hall. Normally, the senators, councilmen, and governors babbled among themselves incessantly, but today an unnatural silence hung over the crowd. They had been summoned to Senate Hall for what they had been told was the absolute gravest of matters.

The curtain blocking the central platform rose, to reveal all of the principal governors of Omniphrax…Most High Academe Arnix Filatine, Most High Librarian Murtus Lodd, Stone Gardens Council Viceroy Ferrix Nemulis, Dormitory Towers Headmistress Naria Lintrax, Chief Farmer Academic Drubber Grope, Twilight General Thurt Grayle…and in the center of the group, High Senator Tesener Burlix, the most important representative in all of Omniphrax.

Tesener Burlix rose to his feet, cleared his throat, and spoke. "Fellow elected representatives of Omniphrax…we are the last shining beacon of freedom in all of the Edgeworld. Nobody can deny this. Beyond the walls of Twilight's Edge, every city, every village, every trog, troll, goblin, and fourthling languishes under the fist of the dictator, Vartolius Xax."

He strode to the edge of the platform, and gazed around at everyone gathered on the great stone tiers of the hall. "But after all our centuries of resilience, of dedication to the rights of individuals, of refusal to bend to the will of tyranny and autocracy, we are now threatened as we have never been threatened before."

The words echoed around the hall. Nobody said a word. Tesener Burlix continued.

"You see, legislators and governors of Omniphrax, Vartolius Xax has discovered a fatal flaw in our defenses…which is that damage to Twilight's Edge is far more devastating to us than an equivalent amount of damage to the Empire's glistership fleet is to him." He paused to let those words sink in, then went on. "We take time to mourn our dead. The Empire does not. We do not have the entire Deepwoods at our command, to strip of natural resources and repair our defenses in a matter of days. The Empire does. We have neither villages of powerless forest-dwellers, nor the wherewithal to enslave them or draft them to fight for us. The Empire has both."

Tesener Burlix cast another sweeping look around the hall.

"And now, Vartolius Xax has decided to use these things to his advantage. This is why we have suffered multiple assaults from the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ in the past few months…he's trying to wear us down."

Panicked whispers swept the hall. Was it true? Could it be? If it was, then it was surely the end of Omniphrax!

"So now I ask each of you to think about this crisis. Can anything be done? Propose any suggestions you might have now, for time is short. The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ is surely approaching again…and the current damage to Twilight's Edge is so extensive that I do not believe the fortress will hold up against another attack."

"We must increase our repair efforts!" cried one of the ten other Senators, sitting on one of the first stone tiers.

"It won't do any good," said Thurt Grayle darkly. "Based on the most recent intervals between the attacks, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ is likely to arrive in a matter of days. We won't have come close to making sufficient repairs by then. In any case, I have already assigned more of the Twilight Marines to repair duty than I feel comfortable doing…if any more are called off of the defense gantries to fix the damage, there will not be enough soldiers on duty to defend from a siege."

"Well, what if we supplemented the repair task force with Pirates Academic?" piped up the Professor of Wind, rising to his feet and looking around at his fellow Sanctaphrax academics for support.

"Yes…they're excellent at repairing their sky ships," agreed the Professor of Cloud, standing up as well.

Philbus Venvax turned to face the professors. "You seem to forget that the Pirates Academic are themselves key players in defending Omniphrax. Take them off duty, and we won't stand a chance."

"We won't stand a chance anyway!" snapped Ferrix Nemulis, pounding the armrest of his seat. "The least we can do is redouble our attempts to repair Twilight's Edge."

"But with such a short frame of time, extra hands will make no difference," protested Thurt Grayle. "And even if it would, what good is a sturdy fortress without active soldiers manning the defense gantries, or Pirates Academic swarming the invaders?"

Several councilmen spoke up angrily, and the hall was suddenly full of the din of shouting, pleading, demanding, and insults. The mood of the gathering had turned ugly.

"SILENCE!" roared Tesener Burlix. Somehow, his voice carried over the cacophony of arguments, and the noise died down. "This young individual wishes to make a suggestion…" He pointed to Bron Rackis, who was sitting in the second row of tiers, next to Nate. Bron rose to his feet. An idea which had been growing in the corners of his mind for a while had finally taken shape.

"I've heard all of you talking about fortifying Twilight's Edge…acting defensively," said Bron, looking around at everyone in the hall. "But here's another idea…perhaps it's time for us to strike back."

The hall filled with whispers, with murmurs. What did this peculiar youth mean? Tesener Burlix raised his hand, and the muttering died down.

"Here's my idea," said Bron, looking at Tesener Burlix. "We meet the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ in the air, and fight it. In the _Edgesaver_."

A much longer, more pronounced silence swept over the hall following these words, as all of the government officials considered this daring, radical idea. The _Edgesaver_, flagship of the Pirates Academic, was the largest stone-powered sky ship ever constructed. Twice as long as the Loftus Tower was tall, the _Edgesaver_ contained a spectacular flight-rock a quarter the size of the Sanctaphrax rocks themselves, and boasted a sea of magnificent sails supported by a forest of nearly fifty ironwood masts.

During the First Age of Flight, sky galleons a fraction of the _Edgesaver_'s size were famously cumbersome, due to their use of multiple flight-rocks to stay aloft. The _Edgesaver_, on the other hand, was marvelously maneuverable and fast, thanks to the aerodynamically perfect spherical shape of its single massive flight-rock, which had taken two hundred years to reach its full size, secured down with chains and miniature crystals of stormphrax until it was large enough for the cage of the great sky ship.

The rock was in fact so enormous that it could not be heated and cooled by the use of conventional flight burners and cooling rods. Instead, the temperature of the flight-rock was regulated by a pair of phraxchambers mounted on either side of the rock cage. When the rock was too cold, the phraxchambers could be swiveled so that their white-hot propulsion ducts faced inwards towards the cage. When the rock was too hot, the phraxchambers could instead rotate so that the funnels were pointed at the cage, bathing the flight-rock in clouds of ice-cold steam.

The _Edgesaver_ had never been used in battle, despite its obvious value as a weapon against the Empire. Vartolius Xax was unaware of the _Edgesaver_'s existence, and the Pirates Academic knew that if he was, he would surely not rest until the ship was destroyed. They feared that if they used the _Edgesaver_ at the wrong time, it would be demolished, and they would lose their only real hope against the forces of the Empire. But now, it seemed, the time had come for the _Edgesaver_ to be put to good use.

"That lad's speaking with a damn sight more sense than we've demonstrated today," said Drubber Grope, his belly-sling quivering.

"What he's suggesting will risk everything," said the Dean of Mist nervously, glancing at the academics sitting beside him.

"In exchange _for_ everything," said Thurt Grayle. "We have no reasonable alternatives. It's our only hope now…and think of what would happen if we won."

"The _Vilnix Pompolnius_, destroyed!" shouted a Senator excitedly.

"Xelius Pulnix, vanquished!" roared another.

"Perhaps we could even liberate all of Great Glade!" exclaimed Naria Lintrax. "The feeble and infirm can find a home in the Dormitory Towers, and the rest would surely help us rebuild the city as it once was!"

"If we liberate the Deadwoods, we can cure the Blight!" proclaimed another voice.

"Vartolius Xax will surrender at once!"

"The Empire will crumble!"

"The Edge will be saved!"

Senate Hall exploded in cheers and screaming. Once again, Tesener Burlix shouted for quiet, but this time it took several minutes before he could restore order.

"We must not get ahead of ourselves," he said. "Remember, the Empire still has the upper hand…and even if we are victorious, it will hardly mean the end of Vartolius Xax's regime. We have far more to lose than he does. But all the same…if we win, this will be our first real blow against him. Who knows what might happen afterward?"

Tesener Burlix strode once more to the edge of the stage. "Nevertheless, our victory is far from assured. The _Edgesaver_ is a mighty vessel indeed, but whether she could hold her own against the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ is not something I am at all convinced of. We will need to outfit her with whatever weapons we can, crew her with our bravest, most skilled volunteers, and send out the entire Pirate Academic fleet along too."

"The librarians-at-arms will be eager to fight for Omniphrax, too!" said Murtus Lodd. "They are trained quite as rigorously as any Twilight Marine or Pirate Academic. They will serve us well."

"The _Edgesaver'_s flight-rock will need to be in the most skilled hands we can provide," proclaimed Ferrix Nemulis. "We in the Stone Gardens understand flight-rocks. We'll serve as the stone pilots."

"Through all of this, we must not neglect Twilight's Edge!" said Arnix Filatine. "We shall effect whatever repairs we can while the _Edgesaver_ sails into battle."

"There are many in the Mire Provinces who would be eager to man the defense gantries, too!" said Drubber Grope. "With a bit of practice, we'll be as good as the Twilight Marines, no problem!"

"Then it's agreed!" boomed Tesener Burlix. "We shall outfit the _Edgesaver_ immediately!"

Bron leaned against the balustrade and felt the wind in his hair. He adjusted the magnificent bicorn hat on his head, and ran his fingers over his leather breastplate and blue greatcoat. _Finally, I am a Pirate Academic_, he thought to himself. _And I'm off on my first quest!_

He, Durix, and Celestia had immediately signed up to join the crew of the _Edgesaver_, along with Raziel, Verticule, Nate, and Leris. Bron felt odd, seeing his grandmother dressed in her old uniform…he had seen it many times as a young'un, but always folded up in his grandmother's wardrobe.

The _Edgesaver_ was sailing over the Phraxfields now. Because time was limited, the academics of Omniphrax weren't waiting to outfit the vessel with weapons before setting off. Instead, the sky ships of the Pirates Academic kept flying up alongside the _Edgesaver_, lashing to the hull with tolley-ropes, and unloading the catapults and phraxcannon as the ship continued on. The whole process was surprisingly efficient, and soon the deck of the _Edgesaver_ was lined with an impressive arsenal of weaponry, which was manned by Twilight Marines, Undertowners, and…the banderbears.

Drubber Grope had been very reluctant to allow the banderbears to volunteer. As he had argued, they were the very last of their kind, and if they were killed in battle, their race would become extinct. However, as Meerowa reminded the Chief Farmer Academic, they would be doomed just as easily if the Omniphrax academics lost the battle, and furthermore the banderbears were strong and enthusiastic. Finally, they had been allowed to come.

Meanwhile, another armada of sky ships, captained by those librarians-at-arms who had a working knowledge of skyflight, swarmed around the _Edgesaver_'s gargantuan flight-rock cage, forming a protective huddle. Because a volley of phraxfire or glister-bombs hitting the flight-rock or the phraxchambers could spell disaster, the "escort" ships acted as a shield, placing themselves in the line of fire to protect the most vulnerable sections of the great ship.

Of course, this would do little good if the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ fired its terrible glisterbeam at the flight-rock, as the great blast of energy would simply tear through the "escort" ships and the cage, drilling straight into the flight-rock and causing the phraxchambers to explode. This would spell doom for the _Edgesaver_. As a result, the first part of the battle was going to be the most dangerous, while the glisterbeam was still active. However, the Pirates Academic, led by Philbus Venvax and Raziel Tollinix, were planning to launch an immediate assault on the glisterbeam, hoping to take it out before it could be fired. Because the glisterbeam had to be charged for a minute or two to reach maximum power, the Pirates Academic would have time on their side. More worrisome was the possibility that a party of hammerhead goblins or shrykes would board the pirates' sky ships before they could demolish the glisterbeam.

"How are you feeling?"

Bron started, and looked around to see Celestia staring at him.

"I can't wait for this battle," he said fiercely. "After seeing the horrors of the Empire, I'm ready to take them on in a fair fight."

"I feel the same way, except…" Celestia's voice trailed off, and she looked out over the Phraxfields miserably. "So many academics will perish."

"Unless we fight, _all_ of us will perish," said Bron, seizing her hand in his. "It's sad, but nothing can be done about it."

"I know…but I still can't stop thinking about it," said Celestia, tears in her eyes. "You know as well as I that the Empire has no mercy. If we lose, we all die. And…" she paused, and sniffed, "…and I don't want to lose you."

Bron didn't know how to react to this. He hugged Celestia awkwardly. "Go and get some rest," he said to her. She nodded, and trotted off towards the aftcastle at the other end of the great deck.

He looked back over the balustrade, down at the misty coils and shimmering glow beneath the _Edgesaver_. He knew that Celestia was right…no matter what happened, many lives would be lost. He turned to look at the aftcastle. "I don't, either, Celestia," he whispered. "I don't want to lose you either."

Suddenly, Tesener Burlix's voice boomed out, amplified by speakers positioned all over the _Edgesaver_. "We are now crossing over into the Deadwoods," he said. "And the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ has been sighted through our telescopes. I would estimate the time until the battle at roughly seven hours."


	18. Chapter 17: Clash Above the Deadwoods

**i.  
The _Vilnix Pompolnius_**

Xelius Pulnix, Imperial Governor of Great Glade, stroked his pointed chin thoughtfully. His lips curled upwards in a smirk.

It was time for all of this nonsense to come to an end. Time for Omniphrax to fall.

Xelius Pulnix, had been alive for hundreds of years, preserved by the life-giving water of the Riverrise spring. He and Bloodhem Spikeflail were the only ones permitted access to the water, other than the Glorious Leader, Vartolius Xax himself. And, speaking of which…

"What do you want?" said Xelius Pulnix coolly, turning to face Bloodhem Spikeflail and his lieutenant, Mother Muleclaw.

"My hammerheads all want to be involved in the action," growled the Warden General of Hive. "Normally a company or two is kept below deck, but…"

"I'll allow them all to join in," said Xelius Pulnix. "And I assume you're here for a similar request, Mother Muleclaw? All of the sisters may participate."

Bloodhem Spikeflail scowled. "We came up here for your recommendation, not your _permission_."

"What does it matter?" said Xelius Pulnix, raising his eyebrows.

"It matters because you've gotten too big for your boots, Pulnix. You seem to think that you've become the Glorious Leader's second-in-command, and can order me around. Well, I've got a reality check for you. We're both Governors, and as such, we are _equals_."

"You seem to forget that the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ is _my_ vessel," snapped Xelius Pulnix, coloring up. "As long as you are on board, I am in charge."

"Do you honestly think that this ship would be as mighty without our goblins and shrykes?" snarled Bloodhem.

"We'd make do," replied Xelius Pulnix coldly. "Now, get out of my cabin."

Bloodhem turned and stormed out of the cabin in disgust, Mother Muleclaw and her scrawny shryke-mate following along in his wake.

Xelius Pulnix smiled. How often had they had this conversation, and how tired he was of it. But it wouldn't be long before that upstart Warden General learned his place. Whatever ferocity the hammerheads and shrykes put into the battle, it would be he, Xelius Pulnix, who got all the credit once Omniphrax was blown to open sky. It was, after all, his ship, and his weapons, and there were plenty of soldiers from the Great Glade Military on board. This time, Vartolius Xax would at last recognize him as the mightiest, cleverest, most faithful servant of the Empire. And there would be rewards…fantastic rewards…

Wait a minute…what in Sky's name was _that_?

Xelius Pulnix dashed to the window of his cabin and looked out into the sky. There was something there…something vast…

Xelius Pulnix fumbled inside his uniform for his brasswood telescope. Seizing it, he gazed at the strange object. His eyes widened in shock.

It was another sky ship…a sky ship almost as large as the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ itself, and armed to the teeth with First- and Third-Age weaponry. Its flight-rock was enormous—larger than any he had ever seen—and perfectly smooth. He could just make out the name, printed in gold lettering near the bow.

"_Edgesaver_?" he muttered. His eyes narrowed. "Damn and blast that academic scum to open sky! How did they conceal such a vessel from the Empire all these years? This changes matters."

A wicked grin spread over his gaunt face. "This means it'll take me slightly longer to wipe them off the face of the Edge."

**ii.  
The Pirate Academic Fleet**

"Here are the orders from High Senator Burlix," panted Philbus Venvax, tearing onto the deck where the Pirates Academic were gathered. Everyone immediately stood to attention. "We are to embark immediately, and stay in battle formation for as long as possible. Captains, be sure to stay close to nearby ships; be ready to defend your neighbors from attack. And the instant that the glisterbeam is within range, shoot whatever you can at it.

"The outcome of this initial mission will determine how the entire battle will play out. If we fail, Omniphrax stands no chance. But we shall not fail…we have the skills and the materials, and with Earth and Sky as our witnesses, we will take out that glisterbeam!"

A resounding cheer followed the Pirate General's words, punctuated by war cries and stamping. Bron looked around, and saw Raziel beckoning to him. He scurried over. As Raziel's right hand, he would be sailing with her. At the same time, Leris was also coming aboard as their stone pilot.

"Are the two of you ready for this?" Raziel said.

Bron and Leris nodded. Raziel smiled in approval and leaped off the deck of the _Edgesaver_, landing four feet below on the deck of her new sky ship. Bron and Leris followed suit, and looked around the deck of the ship. The _Nimbuscleaver_ was every bit as magnificent and sleek as the _Squallskipper_ had been.

"On my command, assume formation and advance!" shouted the amplified voice of Philbus Venvax. Bron grabbed some of the tolley-ropes and prepared to release the sails. Leris climbed up onto the flight-rock platform and readied a pair of cooling rods. Raziel strode to the helm and adjusted the bone-handled flight levers.

"NOW!" roared Philbus Venvax. Bron pulled on the ropes, and the sails billowed out. At the same time, Raziel adjusted the flight levers, and Leris chilled the flight-rock in a hiss of steam. The _Nimbuscleaver _leapt into the air, as all of the surrounding sky ships did the same, forming a great V in the air, just as the ancient sky pirates of the First Age had done in their epic clashes with murderous leaguesmen.

Philbus Venvax's own ship, the _Vortex Slicer_, led the great swarm towards the hazy figure of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The _Vortex Slicer_ fell through the air, curving back upwards to skim the canopy of the Deadwoods. If they were to approach the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ from below, it would take longer for its crew to realize what was happening. But they would inevitably find out sooner or later, so the Pirates Academic were taking no chances.

"Secure the mast bindings!" shouted Raziel from the helm. "And make sure the phraxcannon is bolted down!"

"Aye aye!" called back Bron, and he hastily made the necessary checks. "Everything secure, Captain! The _Nimbuscleaver_ is ready for battle!"

The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ now loomed before them, looking every bit as formidable and terrifying as it had on the day it attacked Twilight's Edge. Its massive glisterjets were pulsing with a blinding red light, its propulsion ducts screaming like a rampaging beast, the metal platforms and walkways on the deck covered with every kind of weapon imaginable.

Bron could feel his heart pounding. He also felt a surge of energy, a combination of exhilaration and rage. The days of Omniphrax hiding and shielding itself were gone. At last, it was time to repay the Empire for its brutality!

**iii.  
The deck of the _Edgesaver_**

"There go the Pirates Academic," said Durix, leaning over the balustrade of the _Edgesaver_ and gazing through his telescope. "In a few moments, the battle will officially begin."

"Bron and Leris and Captain Tollinix are out there," said Celestia, her eyes wide with fear. "Do you think they'll be all right?"

"They'll be fine," said Durix confidently. "After our adventure, a mission like this will be no problem."

Celestia said nothing, but continued to stare in the direction of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_.

"Remember," said Durix harshly, fingering the phraxpistol at his belt. "We have a mission of our own. Once the _Vilnix Pompolnius _gets close enough, we'll need to repel boarders."

Celestia's face hardened. "You're right," she said, gripping the handle of her own phraxpistol. "And if anything happens to our friends, we'll see to it that the Empire pays in blood!" Durix started, taken aback by Celestia's abrupt change of tone.

"You're a strong-willed lass, you are, no doubt about that!" boomed a voice from behind them. Durix and Celestia turned to see Sergeant Scythefang standing before them. "I only wish your friend was still with us…but I suppose he was always meant to be a Pirate Academic."

"When do you think the battle will reach us, sir?" asked Durix.

"Hard to say," said Sergeant Scythefang. "Depends on a lot of things. But we may not have much more time to prepare ourselves." He suddenly switched back to his usual brisk, curt demeanor. "Everyone jump to it! I want all weaponry primed for launch!"

"Wuh-wuh!" came the yodeled reply. A dozen banderbears, led by Meerowa, were marching along the deck, checking that all the catapults, harpoons, and phraxcannon were in working order. One of them stopped, eyes fixed on Durix and Celestia. "Wuh!" she exclaimed in surprise and delight. She marched over to the pair of them and pulled them into a rib-cracking hug.

"Worremol!" said Celestia "You made it!"

The banderbear looked at them fondly, and then stared out at the massive glistership drawing ever closer.

"Wurgh!" she growled, baring her teeth. Her colossal tusks glinted menacingly. She, too, was ready to fight.

"You know what?" said Celestia to Durix. "I can't wait for this battle. It's what all of our lives have been leading up to, and no matter what happens, Omniphrax will gain back its dignity."

**iv.  
The "escort" fleet**

Nate Quarter absentmindedly played with the flight levers of the _Zephyrblaster_. He had very little experience flying this type of ship, but he was quickly getting better. As the sky pirates of old used to say, he was developing the touch. And, as the captain of one of the "escort" ships, it was imperative that he fly well…for he needed to do everything in his power to shield the flight-rock cage of the _Edgesaver_ from damage.

"_You really are a natural,_" came a voice inside Nate's head. He wheeled around to look at Verticule on the flight-rock platform. "_If you had been born in the First Age, you would have been the talk of Wilderness Lair._"

Nate did not answer. He glanced at the massive cage of the _Edgesaver_'s flight-rock, and then turned to look at the blackened, brambly Deadwoods below. "It's the Empire," he said at last. "It was always the Empire. They've done all of this." he swept his hand around in an arc. "They pulled the Edge back into tyranny. They stifled the free pursuit of knowledge. And I'm sure that it was something they did that led to the Blight."

His face darkened. "It is even their fault that I was imprisoned in New Edgelands. The waifs had good reason to live in fear…to trust nobody. They narrowly escaped genocide." He nodded solemnly at Verticule.

Verticule returned the nod, looking grave. "_Do you believe that we have a chance of victory?_"

"I'm sure we do," said Nate, looking ahead to the approaching form of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. "But the magnitude of that chance, I couldn't tell you."

**v.  
The Pirate Academic Fleet**

"They're charging the glisterbeam!" shouted Raziel.

The air was full of a new sound, which was drowning out the screaming of the propulsion ducts; a rasping hum which was growing in volume. The power of the glisterjets was being diverted into the glisterbeam. The crew of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ were preparing to fire it at the _Edgesaver_.

"Attack the beam! NOW!" came the voice of Philbus Venvax. At once, hundreds of projectiles soared at the glisterbeam. Half of them found their mark, and the horrible machine shuddered and sparked as pipes were disconnected and wires knocked out of place. But the damage was not significant; they had only slowed down the charging rate of the glisterbeam.

All at once, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ retaliated with a terrible ferocity. Phraxfire globes deluged the great fleet of sky ships, and deckhands immediately abandoned their posts to extinguish rapidly spreading white-hot fires tearing through decks and sails. At the same time, several small glistercraft flew up into the air, loaded with roaring hammerhead goblins and screeching shryke sisters, waving bloody scythes and bone-flails. Most of these vessels shot off in the direction of the _Edgesaver_, but several of them began to close in on the Pirates Academic.

"Outer flanks, repel the boarders!" bellowed Philbus Venvax. "Inner flanks, take out the glisterbeam!" The sky ships on the edge of the great formation launched an assault on the swarm of approaching glistercraft. Some of the vessels exploded, but many more managed to dodge the mass of projectiles. These ships shot out ropes, and lashed themselves to the sides of some of the pirate ships. In an instant, the Pirates Academic drew out cutlasses, phraxpistols, and any other weapon they had, fiercely repelling the shrykes and hammerheads.

Meanwhile, the glisterbeam was throbbing and glowing with energy. It was only a matter of seconds before it would charge up enough to fire. Bron dashed to the phraxcannon at the end of the _Nimbuscleaver_'s deck, and pulled the mechanism. With a deafening explosion, a phraxshell flew straight at the glisterbeam, and collided with the central chamber.

The glisterbeam shuddered, and a shower of white sparks emanated from the chamber. "We're almost there!" shouted Philbus Venvax. "Don't let up!"

The mechanism was now so bright that it was painful to look at. Bron could tell that it was about to fire. At that moment, a fresh volley of phraxshells from the other sky ships deluged the glisterbeam, pounding it again and again, and all of a sudden, the central chamber broke.

There was a blinding flash of light, and with the sound of roaring and shattering, the glisterbeam broke up in a mass of flying shrapnel and black smoke. Brilliant tendrils of energy snaked across the deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, twisting and undulating, knocking Phraxguardians off their feet. When the smoke cleared, Bron saw that nothing remained of the glisterbeam except a twisted, blackened mass of metal.

Bron punched the air and yelled in triumph. Raziel and Leris were whooping. Shouts of victory could be heard from every one of the sky ships. They had done it! The glisterbeam was obliterated!

"And now," said Bron grimly, looking down at the deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, "the real battle begins."

"Pirates, retreat to the _Edgesaver_!" came Philbus Venvax's voice. "Our first job is completed. It is time to fall back to the second line of defense."

**vi.  
The deck of the _Edgesaver_**

"This is going to be rough!" shouted Thurt Grayle.

All around the _Edgesaver_, small glistercraft were closing in. Phraxguardians, shrykes, and hammerheads, all armed to the teeth with various weapons, were closing in on the great ship.

"Repel the enemy in any way you can!" roared Thurt Grayle. "But do _not_ use the catapults or phraxcannon! They are to be used against the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ once it is within range!"

"Aye aye, General!" yelled the mass of Twilight Marines. Many of them dashed over to the larger weapons, waiting for the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The rest of them, Durix and Celestia included, joined the Undertowners and the banderbears in the efforts to turn away the smaller vessels.

Taking aim with their phraxpistols, Durix and Celestia fired at an incoming craft. Most of the shots glanced harmlessly off the hull, but two of them shattered the craft's right glisterjet. Just as the glisterjet on the _Mollus Leddix_ had done, the chamber burst in a shower of rainbow streaks as the glister within zoomed off into the sky. However, the craft was already above the _Edgesaver_, so when it capsized, the party of vicious hammerhead goblins fell onto the deck. A throng of Undertowners leaped on them before they could gain their bearings, and tossed them over the balustrade, but more boarders were landing.

The chaos and explosions and screaming were just as terrible as they had been on that day at Twilight's Edge. How long ago it now seemed to Durix and Celestia. But this time, the stakes were so much higher.

The two of them hastily reloaded their phraxpistols and shot at a screeching flock of shrykes. Three of them collapsed, blood pouring from their necks, but the rest of them surged forward.

At the same time, a louder series of booms rocked the deck of the _Edgesaver_. The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was launching glisterbombs at the hull! But at the same time, the Twilight Marines responded with blazing harpoons and explosive phraxshells which slammed into the side of the great glistership, causing just as much damage as they had been dealt.

The shuddering knocked many of the boarders off their feet, but most of the Undertowners and Marines managed to remain upright, seizing their chance and dealing deadly blows. Meanwhile, the banderbears were defending the deck with terrible fury, bellowing and howling as they swiped, bit, and crushed the enemy, whose weapons were barely making them flinch.

Nevertheless, the _Edgesaver_ was slowly but surely being overwhelmed. And now, the governors themselves were starting to arrive. Mother Muleclaw was zooming around the deck on a prowlgrin mount, and now the long-haired goblins of the New Hemtuft Battleaxe Legion were arriving, led by the Warden General himself, Bloodhem Spikeflail.

"Earth and Sky protect us all," muttered Durix, as he and Celestia continued their own efforts.

**vii.  
The "escort" fleet**

"The Freeglade Lancers!" shouted Nate.

Hundreds of small glistercraft were heading for the "escort" ships, piloted by sinister black-robed Freeglade Lancers. At the front of the group was the Commander of the Great Glade Military, Bruto Spleethe, a terrible sneer twisting his face. "Take these ships out!" Nate heard him scream. "If we get them out of the way, their flight-rock will be vulnerable!"

Acting upon Nate's unspoken command, Verticule doused the flight-rock with chilled earth, causing it to plummet and dodge several incoming phraxfire globes.

"_We must not do that again, Captain Quarter,_" came the voice of Verticule inside Nate's head. "_Our task is to shield the flight-rock. Our own safety is second priority._"

"Forgive me," said Nate. "I wasn't thinking."

"_But we should certainly attempt to repair our ship should it be damaged,_"amended Verticule. "_And we also must try to repel the Lancers._"

With that, Verticule set the flight-burners to maintain a constant temperature to hold the flight-rock in place, and leaped down from the platform. Taking aim with the _Zephyrblaster_'s swivel-catapult, he launched a blazing ironwood missile at Bruto Spleethe's vessel. Spleethe swerved to avoid it, and the missile instead hit a Freeglade Lancer's glistercraft, which dropped from the sky and smashed into two more as it spiraled down towards the Deadwoods below.

Abruptly, the _Zephyrblaster_ shuddered violently in a flash of light and a great bang. A glisterbomb had torn right through the side of the forehull, leaving a gaping hole. The sails flapped and collapsed, and the ship dived. Verticule instantly jumped back onto the flight-rock platform and chilled the rock, bringing the wounded ship back under control. As wind whistled through the opening in the hull, the _Zephyrblaster_ swayed to and fro. Nate's fingers danced up and down the hull-weight levers with skill that he didn't know he possessed. The ship was slowly brought back under his control.

Meanwhile, Nate was pleased to see that the fleet of "escort" ships was holding up well against the Freeglade Lancers. For every hit to the ships, two or three Freeglade Lancers were being shot down. But unfortunately, they were vastly outnumbered, and even now, the rest of the Great Glade Military was joining the Freeglade Lancers in the assault of the "escort" ships. The enemy had clearly realized the importance of these sky ships to the safety of the _Edgesaver_.

"How much more will we have to take?" muttered Nate grimly.

**viii.  
The Pirate Academic Fleet**

"The _Edgesaver_'s in trouble," said Raziel, pointing to the deck of the ship. "They're being overwhelmed."

Bron knew Raziel was right. As good of a fight as they were putting up, it wasn't good enough. There were simply too many of them to fight off. At the same time, the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was less than three hundred strides from the _Edgesaver_, which was not faring as well in close-range battle.

It was time for the Pirates Academic to rejoin the fray.

"We'll need to split up!" shouted Philbus Venvax from the central ship. "Left flank, protect the 'escort' ships from the Great Glade Military! Right flank, assist the Undertowners and Twilight Marines! Center, attack the _Vilnix Pompolnius_!"

The great formation of sky ships separated into three, and Raziel, Bron, and Leris followed the right flank. The _Nimbuscleaver_ swooped low over the deck of the _Edgesaver_. Taking aim with her crossbow, Leris repeatedly fired and reloaded with incredible rapidity and accuracy, hitting shrykes, hammerheads, longhairs, and Phraxguardians. Several other sky ships followed, and while few of the Pirates on board were as accurate as Leris, they were managing to kill dozens and dozens of enemy soldiers.

The _Nimbuscleaver_ overshot the deck of the _Edgesaver_, and swooped low, towards the flight-rock. Here, too, the tide of the battle was turning. Not only were the Freeglade Lancers and military personnel being shot down in droves by the Pirates Academic, the large sky ships were also knocking aside the smaller vessels, sending the pilots careening out of their seats. The air was soon thick with falling glistercraft.

Bron heard a thud behind him, turned, and felt an icy chill surging through his chest. Bruto Spleethe himself had fallen from his downed vessel, and was now getting to his feet, drawing a glistergun from his belt.

Bron threw himself out of the way of the pulses of energy from the weapon. "Captain Tollinix! It's Spleethe! He's on board!" he screamed.

Raziel wheeled around in alarm. "You!" she cried.

"The famed Raziel Tollinix," growled Spleethe. He fired the glistergun in her direction. She hurled herself to the side to avoid it, and it hit the steering wheel instead, which spun wildly. The _Nimbuscleaver_ bucked and lurched, flying straight for the wall of "escort" ships.

"Captain!" shouted Leris. "Nate and Verticule! They're in trouble!"

Temporarily forgetting all about Spleethe, Bron turned around. They were heading towards the _Zephyrblaster_, which was listing badly. There was a huge hole in the forehull, and the flight-rock cage was splintering. Three Freeglade Lancers were pounding it with a barrage of glisterbombs.

Raziel frantically steadied the steering wheel, pulling it in the opposite direction. The _Nimbuscleaver_ swung around, smashing into the Lancers' glistercraft and sending them plummeting towards the Deadwoods, screaming all the way. But it was too late for the _Zephyrblaster_. Nate and Verticule dashed down to the side of the deck, and as the _Nimbuscleaver_ soared past, they jumped aboard. Behind them, the _Zephyrblaster_ broke apart in the air.

Spleethe, who had taken advantage of the confusion, was now aiming the glistergun at Raziel again. But before he could shoot, Verticule drew out a club and hit Spleethe on the back of the head. The blow hadn't been very strong, and Spleethe remained conscious, but he looked unsteadied. He took aim with his gun once more.

"Chill the flight-rock, NOW!" yelled Raziel. Leris obliged, and the sudden upward acceleration knocked Spleethe off his feet. He bounced across the deck, and, just as the _Nimbuscleaver_ rose up past the side of the _Edgesaver_, he tumbled overboard. Spleethe landed on the deck, and was immediately stampeded by the banderbears. Bron looked down just in time to see Meerowa raise Spleethe above his head, and with a deafening roar, hurl him over the side. The banderbears had gotten their revenge.

By now, the deck of the _Edgesaver_ was covered in bodies. Some of them were academics, but the vast majority were enemy shrykes, goblins, and Phraxguardians. "Look!" shouted Bron, pointing down. "Muleclaw and Spikeflail!"

The governors of Hive were dead, their bodies riddled with crossbow bolts. All over the deck, Undertowners and Marines were cheering. But the battle wasn't over yet.

Now that the boarders had been dealt with, all efforts were directed at attacking the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ itself. Blazing harpoons, ironwood missiles, and phraxshells pounded the hull, the propulsion ducts, the glisterjets. Fires broke out all over the ship, pipes fell out of place, windows shattered. The Phraxguardians on board were frantically trying to bring everything under control, with no success.

Suddenly, a new figure emerged from the control tower at the back of the ship. All eyes turned to this individual, who was tearing across the deck.

"It's him!"

"It's Xelius Pulnix!"

"He's making a run for it!"

Bron could tell that the governor of Great Glade knew all was lost. He was sprinting towards the emergency craft at the front of the vessel, shoving aside Phraxguardians with such force that some were sent flying.

The _Edgesaver_ responded by surging forwards, ramming the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The deck of the glistership bucked. Xelius Pulnix fell flat on his face, but leapt back to his feet and kept going.

Raziel pulled a lever. The _Nimbuscleaver_ shot forwards with tremendous speed, flying low over the deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. Close to, Bron could see that the damage to the ship was critical. The glisterjets were cracked and sparking, and the whole vessel was vibrating uncontrollably.

"Surrender!" Raziel shouted at the fleeing figure below them.

"You'll never take me!" came the reply.

Raziel began to descend further towards the deck. As Xelius Pulnix clambered into the emergency craft, Bron took aim with the phraxcannon once again, and fired. A phraxshell flew straight into the glisterjet of the craft, causing a huge explosion which knocked Xelius Pulnix backwards. He landed back on the deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, completely winded.

In a flash, Leris dived from the flight-rock platform, slid down the grappling rope, and came to land right next to Xelius Pulnix, drawing her cutlass from her belt. She bent down and looked at him. "Remember me?" she said icily, pulling up her greatcoat to reveal the livid scar across her stomach. "I don't believe I ever got the chance to return the favor."

And with that, she thrust her blade right through his heart.

"Get back on board!" shouted Raziel in alarm. She had maneuvered the _Nimbuscleaver _so that it was right next to the shuddering deck of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. "The ship is going down!"

Leris turned and ran, vaulting the balustrade, coming to rest back on the deck of the _Nimbuscleaver_. Climbing back up onto the flight-rock platform, she plunged a cooling rod into the porous surface of the rock. The ship drifted upwards, and Raziel steered it back towards the _Edgesaver_.

Bron turned to look at the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The glistership was now shaking violently, and issuing clouds of steam and flashes of light. Suddenly, no longer able to withstand the pressure, the damaged glisterjets blew out. The six massive propulsion ducts went dark, the ship fell silent, and the whole thing fell through the sky, gathering speed, until…

CRASH!

The fearsome, mighty flagship of Vartolius Xax's Empire smashed into pieces in the Deadwoods.

For several moments, there was silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved at all. The only sound was the wind blowing through the sails of the sky ships.

And then, as if by a prearranged signal, everyone erupted into deafening cheers. Everybody screamed and stamped their feet and threw their arms in the air and danced and hugged and cried with joy. The _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was destroyed. The governors were dead. For the first time in history, Omniphrax had dealt the Empire a genuine blow.

The main doors to the _Edgesaver_'s aftcastle swung open, to reveal Tesener Burlix, looking stunned, but beaming all the same. He raised his hands, and after several minutes, he managed to quiet everybody down.

"We have done it," he said. "It is time to return to Omniphrax. We will decide our next course of action there."


	19. Chapter 18: Vartolius Xax

The topmost chamber of the Great Phraxtower was silent, save for the deep, slow breathing of its occupant.

The figure stirred. He had awoken from his nap. He stretched, rose to his feet, and crossed the sumptuous room to the ornate balcony. He gripped the railing and inhaled deeply.

This room was the highest point in the entire Edge. Stretched out far below were swirling clouds extending into the east. And below these clouds, spread before the figure, was the entire world. The black Nightwoods. The Thorn Forests. The massive Deepwoods. The crumbling Deadwoods. The Phraxfields. And…

"Omniphrax," he smirked. "Or what's left of it, anyway."

Vartolius Xax strode back into his chambers and collapsed onto one of the sofas. Any day now, he was expecting the blessed news from Xelius Pulnix. The reports had all stated that the defenses of Omniphrax were ready to give. One more blow would have been all it took.

How far he had come. How much he had achieved. His younger years seemed so distant now, and yet the potent water of the Riverrise spring kept his memory as youthful as ever it had been.

From the moment he could walk upright, Vartolius Xax had known he was special. So had everyone he had met. He had always had a gift for thinking in new ways. Ways that touched upon the wisdom of the past and the promise of the future. Ways that gradually fueled his fantastic ambition.

His mother had brought him up in Great Glade during the final years of the Third Age of Flight. She had told him many stories of the First and Second Ages. He had especially enjoyed the tales of excess and power. Of greedy leaguesmen, of usurping academics, of mutinous sky pirates and bloodthirsty shrykes. His mother had always told them as cautionary tales, but he had known better. The fact was, his mother didn't think he was good enough. She didn't want to get his hopes up that one day he might join the ranks of these infamous individuals. How could she ever have doubted him?

His favorite story by far was that of the Guardians of Night, because of its single enthralling twist. The story went that their self-proclaimed leader, Orbix Xaxis, had fathered an illegitimate child a few years before he came to power. The line managed to survive, and a few centuries later sought their fortune in Great Glade. It was from this line, his mother had said, that he, Vartolius, had hailed.

Yet young Vartolius never much cared for the tone his mother took as she told the story. She saw Orbix Xaxis as a madman, a crazed tyrant. He, Vartolius, saw him as a visionary. His plan may have failed, but it was a fantastic exercise of power. Why, exactly, had this gap between the strong and the weak grown so small these days?

Alas, his ideas proved too much for some fools. He was left with no choice but to play along with those saps in Great Glade who preferred to hand over power and money to their inferiors. He had released his frustration by joining the military.

Vartolius's years as a Freeglade Lancer gave him plenty of opportunities to throw his weight around. But it hadn't been enough. And soon, he was to experience a life-changing event.

"Waifs." he snarled, pounding his fist on the arm of the sofa.

A pompous, arrogant phraxscholar from the Cloud Quarter, one Telsix Flass, was paying a visit to distant Riverrise, to negotiate price controls on restorative water, and demanded an escort of Freeglade Lancers. Vartolius Xax had been among the individuals chosen to accompany Flass.

Everything was going fine, until Flass paid a visit to the Market Ledges to replenish his personal supplies of water. And the moment that Vartolius had entered the bustling district, he was bombarded with noise. And not just any noise…the loathsome waif merchants were announcing their wares inside his head! There were so many voices that he couldn't take it. He had blacked out from the stress, and one day later, he was awoken by the horrible prodding fingers of a waif healer…a waif healer, moreover, who discharged him immediately, repulsed by the dreams and schemes Vartolius had conjured up.

It had been what pushed him past his limits. Change had to come to the Edge, and he, Vartolius Xax, was going to bring it about!

On the way back to Great Glade from Thorn Harbor, Flass's phraxship stopped over in a remote Western Woods village to repair a loose engine valve. Vartolius had seized his chance and ran for it. He wasn't going back to Great Glade. Oh no, he could never get far trying to gather a following there, not with all their ridiculous nonsense about free trade and equality for all. His supporters were to come instead from the Western Woods.

The most remote corners of the Deepwoods were the last uncivilized places left in the Edgeworld. In some places, nothing had advanced beyond what it had been in the First Age of Flight; marauding bands of warlike goblins, subterranean trog colonies, uneducated trolls who hadn't even heard of phraxcrystals. The wealth of the Third Age of Flight had not yet touched these wild forests, and its inhabitants would give anything for a better life. And Vartolius had promised them precisely that, if they would only submit to his authority.

His first target was the waifs.

Revenging himself upon the creatures that had so tormented him, Vartolius Xax conquered the city of Riverrise and ordered every last waif killed. Most were swiftly dealt with, but plenty had heard Vartolius's murderous thoughts from a distance and fled to the surrounding Nightwoods. But this hadn't perturbed him. His army had then swept through the Nightwoods and killed many more. Still, some managed to escape over the side of the Edge cliff itself. Here, he was forced to give up, for his armies were not capable of locating the hastily constructed settlement the waifs were rumored to have built.

In any case, it was time to turn to other matters.

The foolish leaders of Great Glade and Hive did not take kindly to the new order which had sprung up in Riverrise. They attempted to force Vartolius to step down with rigid trade sanctions. Vartolius responded by cutting off the flow of the Riverrise spring, punishing the great cities of the Deepwoods far worse than they had punished him. At first, he had continued to supply his loyal subjects in Riverrise with the water, but he shortly discovered that many of them were smuggling it out of the city, evidently determined that a black market for Riverrise water should still exist. Furious, he ordered those responsible to be brutally killed, and then completely stopping the water supply, keeping it all for himself. After all, he was the only one who he knew could be trusted with it.

It had been a wise move. Not only had the traitorous scum learned their place, but it had allowed him to live for centuries, looking not a day older than forty.

Soon, the population of Riverrise was perfectly well behaved, leaving Vartolius to spend his time experimenting. He wanted a new way to exercise his authority, and to expand it. It wasn't long before he discovered the perfect way, quite by accident.

He had been modifying a phraxchamber, designing it to work more efficiently, when a particularly large glister drifted down from the sky and got into the engine. Somehow, it gave off energy…a lot of energy. Before long, Vartolius was designing better engines, designed to run off the power of glisters. It was just what he needed…and it signified a new beginning.

For a while now, Riverrise had been languishing under the shackles of poverty and famine. Now that they were no longer importing or exporting goods to and from the Deepwoods, their industries were floundering under a lack of resources. Vartolius put a stop to that right away, by enslaving the inhabitants of Riverrise in his new glistership factories he was constructing on the edge of the Nightwoods. Before long, he had built a fleet of mighty warships.

Those puny wretches in Hive and Great Glade never stood a chance.

Ah, what wonderful days! He was the newly self-declared Glorious Leader of the Deepwoods, and lost no time in reshaping the Edgeworld in his image. Now that he was gaining more and more power, the inhabitants of all the settlements rushed to join his armies, tempted by the promise of marvelous rewards for the most loyal. Soon, a few of his earliest recruits proved to be so obedient and ruthless that they were charged with the task of governing the settlements. The two most important of them, Xelius Pulnix and Bloodhem Spikeflail, were even granted access to the Riverrise spring, in return for keeping order in their respective cities.

Soon, though, he had a new problem to deal with. The Blight. It worsened the poverty throughout the Edge (not that Vartolius cared about that) and created a great deal of unrest. Vartolius was pressured to find a solution, and came up with a tremendous plan.

The ancient plans of the Guardians of Night, he reasoned, did not work because their structure had been incapable of withstanding the power of the lightning from the Great Storm. The new Great Phraxtower, on the other hand, would be designed to channel the power directly into the ground, harnessing the energy of a layer of stormphrax within the walls. And it was carefully engineered to hold up against the internal explosions caused by the strike.

But that wasn't enough. A simple Great Storm wouldn't have the power or the purity to cleanse the Edge of the Blight, and the unfaithful. For this feat, the newly established Phraxguardians would require the Mother Storm herself.

The weather forecasters predicted that it would arrive both at a higher altitude and within a shorter interval of time than it had ever done in recorded history. The plans for the Great Phraxtower had been based upon these predictions, and the Phraxguardians were ready for the day the Mother Storm would return to Riverrise.

Which left Omniphrax as the only remaining source of irritation.

"But not for long," cackled Vartolius, rubbing his hands together. "It is only a matter of time before the news comes."

At that moment, the doors banged open, revealing a pair of high-ranking Phraxguardians. Vartolius fought back the irritation he felt at being disturbed…better to wait to hear the news before reacting angrily, and in any case, the dictator was feeling far too cheerful to murder any messengers.

"What news?" he purred, rising to his feet.

The Phraxguardians looked at each other, and Vartolius noticed with a trace of disquiet that their expressions were laden with dread. "Glorious Leader, we bring news of the _Vilnix Pompolnius_…"


	20. Chapter 19: The Glister Vision

Bron had never, in his entire life, known a celebration like it.

Surrounded by the fleet of smaller sky galleons, the _Edgesaver_ had returned to Omniphrax, battered, scarred, and limping…but triumphant. As they drew near to the colossal fortress, still pitted and splintered in places, the faint sound of screaming and cheering could be heard, growing louder and louder. Once they arrived, they were greeted by thousands and thousands of Sanctaphrax sky-scholars and Farmers Academic, jumping up and down and yelling themselves hoarse. Many of them were in tears.

As the _Edgesaver_ passed through the largest of the sky-gates, and its deck passed within a stride of the platforms and walkways on the Phraxfields side of Twilight's Edge, jubilant throngs mobbed the deck to greet the returning fighters, hugging them, kissing them, hoisting them up onto their shoulders and parading them across the deck. Some of them even found their way onto the ships of the Pirates Academic, and Bron and his friends had found themselves engulfed by a swarm of celebrating academics, each of them determined to express their own congratulation and gratitude and joy.

"That is enough!" boomed the amplified voice of Thurt Grayle from the helm, where he was helping Tesener Burlix steer the mighty vessel. "There will be time for that soon. Everyone in Twilight's Edge, please step off of the ship…we must return to Pirate Landing."

The _Edgesaver_ was greeted in the same way as they passed over Undertown. Everyone dashed out of their shops, stalls, and residences to wave at the returning vessel. Sanctaphrax and Library Rock were nearly deserted, but those few academics who had remained leaned out the windows of their laboratories, libraries, and lecture halls, all dignity and manners forgotten as they yelled to the _Edgesaver_ and the trailing sky ships.

The moment that everyone had disembarked, the celebrations had begun. Undertown and the four great Sanctaphrax rocks were alive with music, dancing, drinking, and revelry. Never before had Omniphrax had a reason to celebrate, and its citizens were suddenly given much better news than they could ever have hoped for. Not only was Omniphrax not going to be overrun with Phraxguardians, but the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ was destroyed and the regional governors were dead!

Various participants in the battle were shortly filled in on what had happened in parts of the fight that they had not seen. Bron learned from Celestia and Durix that the worst carnage had been caused by the goblins and the shrykes. Muleclaw and Spikeflail had pushed their forces towards the aftcastle, to attempt to destroy the helm and disable control of the _Edgesaver_. It wasn't until the Pirates Academic had returned that the enemy numbers were reduced enough for the Undertowners to get a clear shot at the Warden General and his lieutenant. Bron, Raziel, and Leris, meanwhile, lost no time in informing the others about the details of their assault of the glisterbeam.

Of course, the process of mourning the dead put something of a damper on the festivities. A few hundred of the fighters had perished in the battle, and the citizens of Omniphrax spent a day of mourning, in which vigils were held, and the remains of those whose bodies could be recovered were laid to rest in their traditional ceremonies. Some were buried, some burned in funeral pyres, others laid out in the Stone Gardens or launched into open sky in burning lufwood rafts. Tesener Burlix himself presided over the ceremonies, extending his heartfelt condolences to those whose loved ones had been taken from them, and praising the fallen fighters' courage in giving the ultimate sacrifice for Omniphrax. For these family members and friends, life would never be the same, but in that one day their pain was shared by everyone. Bron and many of the other Pirates Academic spent much of their time seeking out the bereaved and trying to offer them as much comfort as they could.

It wasn't long, however, before everyone was once again celebrating the fantastic triumph of the _Edgesaver_. All through the night, Omniphrax was consumed with merriment and raucous energy. Giant parades snaked their way through every street in Undertown. The halls and laboratories of Sanctaphrax and Library Rock were hastily converted into makeshift dance floors, and music of all kinds competed with the tolling bells ringing out over the districts. Sky ships flew out over the Mire Provinces on wild party cruises. The noise would have made sleep impossible, had any of the jubilant, excited citizens actually sought it.

The festivities did not stop. They continued on as the sun rose, carrying into the next night. It wasn't until the day after that the exhausted inhabitants of Omniphrax finally began to calm down. But even as Omniphrax started settling, the good spirits remained.

Invigorated by their victory against the Empire, everyone was working twice as hard as they would usually have done. Scholars and Librarians categorized their new discoveries at a rapid pace, as the unusually high output of the Farmers Academic yielded record results, both in species preservation and crop yields. Thousands of volunteers flocked to Twilight's Edge, where the repair efforts were finally beginning to return the fortress to its original glory. And the Pirates Academic spread out all over the Edge, rescuing oppressed citizens with unprecedented ease, as the forces of Great Glade and Hive had been so sorely weakened.

Over the next month, Bron, Leris, and Raziel embarked on two missions. Each time, they sailed the _Nimbuscleaver_ to the Northern Reaches, at the center of a great formation of sky ships. The Pirates Academic had never before targeted larger settlements, choosing instead to travel to remote, undeveloped villages where the Empire's security forces did not have as great a hold. But the Northern Reaches had been under the jurisdiction of Xelius Pulnix, and the Great Glade Military had all retreated to their headquarters, leaving the moderate-sized settlements unguarded.

From a distance, nothing appeared to have changed about the Northern Reaches. The dark outlines of mills and factories towered into the overcast sky, looming over the run-down slums surrounding the city. But the atmosphere was charged with nervous excitement. On both of the missions, they had loaded up hundreds of fettleleggers into the holds of the ship with the few possessions they owned, and after doing everything they could to make their surroundings comfortable, sailed back to Omniphrax and dropped them off in the Dormitory Towers. Each time, the wide-eyed wonderment and gratitude on the fettleleggers' faces afforded Bron a warm glow of satisfaction.

The second time they had shown up in the Northern Reaches, things were quite different. The fettleleggers who remained had transformed the city. The government offices had been torn down, and the luxuries owned by the Great Glade Military officers were distributed equally among the inhabitants. Meanwhile, the fettleleggers had also commandeered the weapons in the city, so that they would be able to defend themselves when the Great Glade Military tried to reclaim the city.

Raziel disembarked from the _Nimbuscleaver_, followed by Bron and Leris. The fettleleggers surged forwards, desperate to be among the lucky group that would be rescued. There were more sky ships in the fleet this time, so more of them would be able to come to Omniphrax, but they would still only be able to take a small fraction of the entire population of the Northern Reaches.

"Can you feel the tides of change?" said an old fettlelegger, hobbling up to Raziel.

Raziel shook her head sadly. "We may have struck the Empire a blow, but it will only be a matter of time before Vartolius Xax is back on his feet."

"Perhaps not," the fettlelegger said. "We've been hearing all sorts of rumors. All kinds of other uprisings are happening all over the Edge. Great Glade and Hive are in disarray, and a few other settlements have completely wriggled free of their control."

"But there are still millions who are loyal to the Empire," said Raziel. "And from what I've heard, order is returning to Great Glade and Hive. The Phraxguardians have declared martial law, and are preparing to march on the smaller settlements too. The fact is, they still rule the Edge. And this is why we have not abandoned our rescue raids."

The fettlelegger nodded sadly. "You're probably right. But still, one can hope."

Raziel's words made Bron's spirits sink. He had been so excited and happy for weeks. But he had forgotten that winning a battle wasn't the same as winning a war. Vartolius Xax still ruled the Edge, and his fury at Omniphrax would be greater than ever. This was the first time that anyone had truly challenged his power, and Bron didn't like to think what could be looming on the horizon.

These dark thoughts spun around and around his head for the next week, as they sailed back to Omniphrax. But when they arrived, Bron found something new to worry about. "Earth and Sky!" he whispered as he gazed at the districts below him.

It looked as though the city had been attacked.

Gone was the happiness and positivity and hope that had suffused the air when they had departed. As they sailed over Undertown, they saw damaged buildings and downed trees. Worse to behold were the inhabitants. The _Nimbuscleaver_ dipped lower over the streets, and Bron saw people huddled in nervous groups, muttering to each other.

The fettleleggers emerged onto the deck to get their first view of Omniphrax. They looked around in puzzlement. This wasn't the prosperous beacon of freedom that they had heard about.

"What happened here?" asked one of them, tottering towards Raziel. "Why is it like this?"

She looked down from her position at the help. "I…don't know," she said. "It wasn't like this when we left."

After dropping off the fettleleggers at the Dormitory Towers, Raziel guided the _Nimbuscleaver_ back to Pirate Landing, and Bron, Raziel, and Leris left the sky ship to find Murtus Lodd waiting for them, looking agitated.

"At last!" he said, hugging the three of them in turn.

"What's going on?" asked Leris.

"Two days ago, the city was hit by a violent storm. It was terrible! The battering winds shook the Sanctaphrax rocks and poured over Undertown. But that's not all…when the storm hit, everyone went…odd."

"Odd?" said Raziel sharply. "What do you mean, _odd_?"

"Well, it…that is, Arnix Filatine gave the announcement yesterday. The Department of Psycho-Climatic Studies in Sanctaphrax observed the event, and…well, according to them, it was a…a mind storm."

Bron stared at the Most High Librarian in amazement. A mind storm! Everyone knew of the rare and violent weather patterns that formed deep in open sky. Not only did they cause ball-lightning and gales and torrential rain, they also produced a dramatic and random emotional atmosphere that affected everyone nearby. Some might sing happily, some break down in sobs, some curl up in fear, and others fly into violent rages, all for seemingly no reason whatsoever. No wonder Omniphrax had been shaken so badly.

"A mind storm?" exclaimed Raziel. "Are they sure?"

"The faculty of the Department of Psycho-Climatic Studies has spent their entire academic careers observing the emotional effect of the weather," said Murtus. "If they say it was a mind storm, I think we can believe them."

"But mind storms are extremely rare!" said Leris. "Why, the only times in history that they have ever struck the Edge have been when…when…"

"When the Mother Storm is preparing to return," finished Murtus gravely.

Bron swayed on the spot. The thought of the Mother Storm returning to the Edge made him feel dizzy. This was the weather formation from which all other weather was conjured. It was the Mother Storm that had originally brought life to the Edge, simultaneously creating the Riverrise spring and seeding the world with glisters. The seeds of the three Ancient Ones—the Sanctaphrax Rock, the Great Blueshell Clam, and the Caterbird—were said to have come from the Mother Storm. And since its first visit, the Mother Storm had returned to the Edge regularly, rejuvenating the Edgewater River and preventing the Edge from descending back into the barren darkness in which it had originally been enveloped.

The Mother Storm's visits had always brought tremendous change. The last time she had returned to the Edge, the legendary sky pirate, Captain Twig, and his apprentice, Cowlquape Pentephraxis, had severed the Anchor Chain of Sanctaphrax, causing the great floating city to float away into Open Sky and clear the way for the Mother Storm. Not long after, Undertown had been overtaken by a great evil, and later destroyed, prompting a mass exodus to the Free Glades. Thousands of years before that, the Mother Storm had put an end to the Time of Enlightenment, and the reign of Kobold the Wise. The mind storms she had generated above the Deepwoods caused the perfect union of the Thousand Tribes to crumble, and the Deepwoods to return to their former greed and slavery after a brief period of prosperity and fairness. If any organized society had existed before Kobold the Wise, the Mother Storm had erased any evidence of it.

"Are we in danger?" came Raziel's voice, bringing Bron back to reality. "During the Mother Storm's previous visit, Sanctaphrax had to be released to prevent it from blocking her path to Riverrise. Now we have _four_ Sanctaphrax rocks, plus Twilight's Edge!"

"We are not in danger, thank Earth and Sky." said Murtus. "The Mother Storm has approached the Edge at different altitudes each time she has visited. This time, she is much higher in the sky. It seems that Vartolius Xax's weather forecasters weren't just a bunch of yes-men after all."

He frowned. "What puzzles the sky-scholars is the time frame. The Mother Storm has always come in cycles of about five or six thousand years. It has been little more than one thousand years since her last visit."

Murtus paused, and then said, "There's something else…something that the three of you need to know."

"What?" asked Raziel.

Murtus took a deep breath, and said, "Nate Quarter is ill. He collapsed after the announcement that the Mother Storm was heading our way, and he is being cared for in the Dormitory Towers."

Bron, Raziel, Durix, Celestia, Leris, and Verticule were gathered around the bed. Nate Quarter was lying still, breathing faintly, but apparently in a deep sleep.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" asked Celestia.

"Well, he is over five hundred years old," said Durix. "Perhaps that's starting to take its toll on him."

After about ten minutes, they left. They returned frequently to the Dormitory Towers to visit Nate, but he was always unconscious. A team of gabtroll matrons were administering all of the concoctions and remedies that they could think of, but he did not respond.

However, Bron did notice one thing about Nate's condition. The strange glow that emanated from his body was slowly starting to fade. He wasn't sure what to make of this. Did it mean the Nate was getting well? That a condition he had suffered for centuries was at last at bay? Or did it mean precisely the opposite? Did the fading glow signify his fading life force?

Over the next week, they continued to make visits. But as their duties began to send them to different parts of Omniphrax, they soon found themselves unable to visit together. They frequently visited in threes, twos, or alone.

As if everyone didn't have enough to worry about, Omniphrax was then struck by another mind storm. The city had not yet even quite recovered from the first, and this one caused just as much damage. To add insult to injury, although the Mother Storm would supposedly pass over Twilight's Edge, the mind storms did not. This meant that Omniphrax not only took the brunt of the force, but the storms were blocked from reaching the Empire and causing any additional trouble there.

The morning after the second mind storm had struck, Bron was to be found visiting Nate's bedside on his own. He stared down into the ancient lamplighter's wizened face. His glow was now completely gone.

"I wonder what's going to happen?" he muttered. "To you, and to the Edgeworld."

Suddenly, without warning, Nate sat bolt upright in bed. Bron was so startled that he fell backwards off his chair, which landed on the floor with a crash. Excited, Bron got up and walked over to the bed, exclaiming "You're all right! You…"

He stopped. Nate Quarter was clearly _not_ all right. His mouth was stretched tight in a grimace, and his eyes were bulging.

"The end…" he whispered in a hoarse, cracked voice. "The end is coming."

"What…what do you mean?" said Bron.

Nate slowly turned his head to face Bron. The horrible grimace had vanished, and his eyes were not popping anymore, but he bore a hopeless, ashen expression. "My memory has come back. I…I remember."

"Remember what?" asked Bron.

"I remember what the glisters told me on the side of the Edge cliff," he said.

He drew a deep, shuddering breath.

"They explained everything to me. Everything! And the truth is ghastly! I fear that it is too late!"

"Too late for what?"

"For the Edge," he whispered.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Bron said shakily, "Please explain."

Nate took another deep breath, and started speaking. "The Mother Storm, Bron Rackis. The Mother Storm! She has created everything. Her rain produced the Edgewater River. Her winds blew glisters to the Edge, where they took root and formed life. The glisters know this."

"They _know_ this?" said Bron, confused. "Do you mean to say that glisters are capable of intelligent thought?"

"Yes, but not as we know it," said Nate. "Glisters form a collective consciousness by calling to each other. These calls are not quite thoughts…they are more basic…but together they form a combined intelligence that covers the Edge and stretches out forever into open sky."

Bron's anger at the Phraxguardians intensified. Not only were they enslaving and destroying the seeds of life, they were enslaving and destroying elements of an eternal consciousness!

"This energy touches us in more ways than we realize. This intelligence formed by glisters serves to feed the essence of life itself. And when it is damaged, so life on the Edge is wounded. In this way, the Phraxguardians' depletion of the glister population has led to…"

"The Blight!" gasped Bron. It was beginning to make sense.

"The glisters have sensed that they are in trouble," said Nate. "And it so happens that they share a supernatural connection with the Mother Storm. Whenever their numbers grow scarce, they summon her back to the Edge. This is how it has been since the dawn of time. In the past, the glister population would only thin as a result of the natural cycle. But this cycle was disturbed by the Phraxguardians."

"So that's why the Mother Storm is approaching so prematurely!" exclaimed Bron. "But that's good, isn't it? She is returning to reverse the damage caused by the Empire!"

"That is how it should be," said Nate. "But the Phraxguardians have other plans!"

"I don't understand," said Bron.

"Have you forgotten that they too are awaiting the Mother Storm? They view it as the solution to their problems. And they have constructed a tower to collect its energy. And this tower's walls…"

"…are lined with Stormphrax!" said Bron, horrified. "To amplify the energy of the rejuvenating burst of water and lightning! But then…"

"The power of the stormphrax will be too tremendous," said Nate. "It will destroy Riverrise. And with the central energy source of life on the Edge destroyed, the collective consciousness of the glisters will retreat back into open sky. Every living creature on the Edge will die."

Bron sat down, clutching his head. It was all too much to take in. It was truly the end of the world.

"Can…can anything be done?" he asked Nate.

"I do not know," he said. "We may already be too late. The Mother Storm is on her way. If anything can be done, then in must be done immediately."


	21. Chapter 20: The Final Plan

It was amazing, Bron reflected, how quickly the atmosphere in Omniphrax had changed.

Once Nate's dire warnings got out, the celebrations immediately ended. People were no longer celebrating their tremendous victory against the Empire. Now, everyone in Omniphrax walked through the streets with the same haunted, ashen look in their faces. The Mother Storm was coming, and she would extinguish all life on the Edge.

For a few days, nothing was done. People were so horrified that they couldn't do their work. The city began to suffer for it. The constant harvests from the Farmers Academic stopped coming. The scholars and librarians in the floating districts no longer pursued their studies. And the Pirates Academic had stopped embarking on missions.

And then, Tesener Burlix called a meeting of the leaders in Omniphrax in Senate Hall. Naturally, Bron and his friends were once again invited to participate.

The mood in the hall was even more somber than last time. Now, it wasn't the tyranny of the Empire that they so desperately feared. This time, they had a much larger concern. Even a week ago, this would have seemed impossible. But things had changed.

Tesener Burlix strode to the center of the platform, and began to speak.

"Fellow leaders of Omniphrax, I understand your fear. The situation for the Edgeworld is grim. But I have been reflecting on it in length…and I believe that there is one last, desperate hope for salvation."

The crowd muttered. Salvation? What madness was this? What harebrained scheme could the High Senator have cooked up?

Tesener Burlix's face was grim, but determined. "For the past few days, I have heard nothing but talk over how horrible the return of the Mother Storm shall be. But it is not the Mother Storm we must fear. She is not what threatens the Edge."

More muttering. What was he talking about?

Tesener Burlix continued, "It is the Great Phraxtower that we must fear…and the Phraxguardians."

A senior librarian stood up. "Well, sure, the Great Phraxtower is to blame, but it is the Mother Storm that will spark the apocalypse."

"True." agreed Tesener Burlix. "And yet, if we are to avert this catastrophe, it is the Great Phraxtower we must target."

Silence fell. Nobody spoke. Nobody even fidgeted.

Then, a voice from the back of Senate Hall piped up, "Have you lost your mind, High Senator?"

Murtus Lodd got to his feet. "We have to keep things in perspective," he said. "Yes, destroying the Great Phraxtower seems impossible, but if we have no alternative, and if failure to act means the end of all life on the Edge, I think we should seriously consider it."

"It is completely futile!" snapped Philbus Venvax. "We have studied the designs of the Great Phraxtower. It cannot be destroyed. And the city of Riverrise is fortified with the greatest defenses the Empire can institute! Besides, if we launched an aerial assault, we would have to go over the Thorn Forests. The turbulent storms and gusts in the western skies would tear any first-age sky galleon or phraxship to pieces!"

"Any _ordinary_ sky galleon or phraxship," corrected Raziel, getting to her feet. "Remember, Pirate General, there is one ship which is capable of battering through the turbulence using the little wind that travels in the direction of Riverrise. The _Edgesaver_."

Silence fell again.

Philbus Venvax stroked his chin, considering. "Captain Tollinix speaks the truth," he said. "I didn't think of that. And the rest of whatever armada we assemble can ride in the slipstream of the _Edgesaver_."

"That doesn't solve the problem of the Phraxguardians' defenses, though," said Thurt Grayle. "And the impenetrability of the Great Phraxtower."

"_There is a small chink in their armor._"

Everyone turned to face Verticule. He was so small that nobody had noticed him stand up, but his thoughts had flashed through the minds of everyone in Senate Hall.

"How could you possibly know that?" said Arnix Filatine, nervously fingering the Great Seal of Office around his neck.

"_I have spent a great deal of time in Pirate Landing during the past few days. And I was particularly intrigued by the elaborate blueprints for the Great Phraxtower stolen by the Pirates Academic long ago, which hangs in the upper conference chamber. I couldn't help noticing one critical spot that, if attacked, might bring down the whole structure._"

"Out with it!" exclaimed Philbus Venvax excitedly, clapping his hands together. "What did you see?"

"_It is called the Support Tunnel. It was created back when the original foundations were being built, to allow easier access to the interior. It leads into a chamber containing crucial structures known as Bracing Pillars. They are not only load-bearing, they also keep the Great Phraxtower from swaying._"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" said Tesener Burlix.

"_I am saying that you would only have to send a small party into the Support Tunnel to take out the Bracing Pillars. The Great Phraxtower would become vulnerable to the slightest gust of wind. It would fall over in a matter of minutes._"

A small, grim smile plucked at the corners of the nightwaif's mouth. "_If you succeeded, it would mean nothing less than the total rebirth of the Edge. Not only would Riverrise be saved, the Phraxguardians' regime would topple as fast as their tower. Vartolius Xax would be finished…but there is a bit of a hiccup in this plan._

Verticule paused, evidently trying to choose the right thoughts.

"_There is a reason why the Phraxguardians don't believe the Support Tunnel is worth guarding. The entrance is constructed on the far side of the Riverrise Mountain. Clearly they never believed anyone would ever find the tunnel at all, but even if you know exactly where it is, it can only be reached by traveling through the Empty Range._"

Bron felt an ice-cold chill sweep through him. The Empty Range! Bron couldn't imagine what it would be like to journey through the cold, pitch-black mountains beyond Riverrise, untouched by the Mother Storm's life-giving energy. It was the last unexplored place in all of the Edgeworld, and for good reason. There was nothing to be found there but darkness and monsters. Nothing lived there except for Nameless Ones…those misshapen mistakes of nature created in the earliest times of the Edge.

A few of these creatures sometimes strayed into the Nightwoods, where they were frequently captured by the enigmatic dwarf tribes and enslaved as beasts of burden. These domesticated Nameless Ones were as tall as lullabee trees and could crush a fully-grown hammelhorn bull underfoot. But these were the weaklings…the pathetic specimens which lacked the strength to survive in their natural environment and fled for the relative fecundity of the Nightwoods. According to legend, the largest Nameless Ones stood fifty strides tall and ate boulders, though they would never miss an opportunity to prey on more succulent treats that strayed into their territory.

The entire hall remained silent for several seconds as everyone contemplated what Verticule had told them.

Finally, Philbus Venvax said, "So…while this small group journeys through the Empty Range, the rest would engage the Phraxguardians?"

"It would be necessary," said Tesener Burlix before Verticule could answer. "The Phraxguardians would only fail to notice a small craft sailing past Riverrise if there was a much larger conflict going on right in front of them. The key is to hold off the Phraxguardians long enough to complete the mission."

"We can do that," said Philbus Venvax. "We would never be able to defeat them, but we will be able to buy plenty of time."

Tesener Burlix strode to the front of the stage. "Everything appears to have fallen into place in our struggles. The Empire is at its weakest point in hundreds of years, at the same time that their very existence threatens to destroy the Edge. Even without the Mother Storm's arrival, what good will our victory against the _Vilnix Pompolnius_ do in the long run? Vartolius Xax would find more governors. He would build a new and more terrifying flagship. He would reclaim everything, and we would be back where we started. Now, we have a new chance, a tiny window, to do more…to soundly defeat the Empire. I don't know our chances for success, but I do know that they have never been as high, and nor have the stakes. If we fail, then we shall fail with dignity. And if we succeed…then the Edge will be reborn, never to be shackled by oppression and slavery again!"

Senate Hall erupted in cheers. After a few minutes, Tesener Burlix managed to restore order. "The only remaining question is who shall be the ones to carry out the plan."

He gazed around the hall, and his eyes were drawn to three raised hands. "Yes?" he said.

Bron, Raziel, and Nate rose to their feet.

The High Senator considered them for a moment, and then said, "You are volunteering to carry out our most crucial plan?"

Then, three more hands rose into the air. Celestia, Durix, and Leris stood up.

"We will be the support party…in case they don't make it," said Leris. Durix and Celestia nodded seriously.

"Very well." said Tesener Burlix.

"We must depart at once!" shouted Arnix Filatine, rising from his seat. "The Mother Storm will strike in a matter of days…even if we set out immediately, we will arrive only hours before the Mother Storm herself."

"Assuming ideal wind conditions," added the Professor of Wind, rising from his seat among the sky-scholars.

"And that we do not encounter any storm clouds," cut in the Professor of Cloud.

"We will leave immediately, and begin to formulate our plans onboard," said Tesener Burlix.

The trip proved to be even more hectic than the preparations before the battle against the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. The city of Omniphrax was virtually deserted, as nearly everyone had volunteered to join this final battle. The original setup was implemented, with the _Edgesaver_ swarmed by an "escort" fleet and with the Pirates Academic following behind, but this time the system was even more elaborate. The Farmers and the Librarians were frantically repairing the damage from the previous battle, even as the ship sailed on its way to Riverrise. They hung down from ropes on the side of the deck and sealed up cracks and holes in the hull, while the sky-scholars and the Twilight Marines effected repairs to the weapons.

The fighters, too, were preparing themselves with a far grimmer outlook than before. In the previous battle, it had been all about defeating the enemy. Here, the enemy was too powerful…the only objective was to distract them for as long as possible. This battle would be far bloodier; the Phraxguardians had a spectacular arsenal of devastating weaponry, including hundreds of glisterbeams, each one as powerful as the one that had been mounted on the _Vilnix Pompolnius_. Since there was no hope of taking out that many glisterbeams, the _Edgesaver_ was going to favor a very long-range assault strategy. The problem was that, stationed at a safe distance from the glisterbeams, the _Edgesaver_ would not have a great deal of accuracy.

The Pirates Academic, on the other hand, were going to dive-bomb the city while the _Edgesaver_ fought from afar. This was the most dangerous role in the main battle; they would be within range of the glisterbeams, as well as several other kinds of deadly short-range counterattacks.

Through all of this, Bron, Raziel, and Nate were going to carry out the most crucial task. They would journey through the Empty Range to reach the Support Tunnel. They knew the general location of the tunnel through the stolen blueprints of the Great Phraxtower, and these blueprints also showed a crude map of the small sliver of the Empty Range that they would have to travel through.

Bron's anxiety was agonizing. There were so many things to worry about. What if they crashed? Or got lost? Or got attacked by Nameless Ones? And what if they got into the Support Tunnel, only to be captured, or if they failed to find a way to destroy the Bracing Pillars? And if they fail, what if the backup party failed too?

So many clear paths led to failure. And only one winding, uncertain path lead to success.

It didn't feel like it had last time. In the last battle, Bron had been nervous, but full of angry energy. He had been itching to fight. But now…so much more depended on victory. It seemed incredible to think that something like the destruction of Omniphrax seemed so insignificant compared to the concerns they now faced.

On the third day, Tesener Burlix made an announcement from the helm of the _Edgesaver_. "We are approaching the Thorn Forests. The only air which is safe for flight is the air in our slipstream. All ships must now sail directly behind us…if you wander off course, the turbulence will tear your ship to pieces."

As one, all of the ships, even the "escort" fleet, positioned themselves behind the _Edgesaver_. The _Nimbuscleaver_ was positioned behind the top of the aftcastle, and Bron could see the figures of Tesener Burlix and Philbus Venvax through the back window of the enclosed helm. What was going through their minds? Were they just as anxious as Bron?

Below the Omniphrax armada, the sea of trees gave way to an endless, tangled bed of massive thorns. The wind grew more violent; even within the _Edgesaver_'s slipstream, the currents battered and shook all of the ships. The sky began to grow dark as well. Bron originally thought that the sun was setting, but then he realized they had actually entered a part of the Edge where no light penetrated. Before long, they were flying through total blackness. Phraxlamps winked on all around the deck of the _Edgesaver_, and the smaller sky ships were illuminated by their flight-rock burners, but the darkness in the surrounding air was impenetrable. Soon, they would be flying over the Nightwoods, and then…

Riverrise.

The battle was going to begin soon.

Several hours later, the air around the fleet grew calmer and heavier. "We have left the zone of the greatest turbulence," boomed Tesener Burlix's amplified voice. "Resume your previous formations."

The "escort" fleet swarmed the great flight-rock once again, and the Pirates Academic took up positions ahead of the Edgesaver. Bron, Raziel, and Nate, however, did not join this group. It was time for them to split up from the main ranks…and begin their mission.

"Good luck," Bron whispered with his head turned towards the receding lights of the _Edgesaver_, as he opened the sails of the _Nimbuscleaver_, Nate tended the flight-rock, and Raziel expertly steered the sky ship through the eternal night. "Earth and Sky protect us all!"


	22. Chapter 21: Riverrise

**i.  
The Omniphrax Fleet**

The fleet of sky ships advanced through the eternal night, led by the _Edgesaver_.

The howling wind was subsiding in earnest, and the air was growing deathly still, a sign that their journey was almost at an end.

The silence was shattered by a voice. "I can see it!" shouted one of the Pirates Academic.

Durix and Celestia turned towards the sound. Silhouetted against the glow of the flight-burners, the Pirate was pointing straight ahead. Sure enough, a faint hazy glow was starting to emerge out of the blackness.

Celestia nervously fingered the receiver at her belt. The tiny phraxcrystal at its heart was connected to a transmitter that sent a radio signal. This high-tech device would enable her, Durix, and Leris to stay in touch with the others as they journeyed towards the Support Tunnel. However, the Phraxguardians were capable of tapping into their frequency, so any use of the phrax transmitter would run the risk of revealing the whole plan to the enemy. It was therefore only to be used in the event that one party was in mortal danger.

She was burning to use it now…to learn what had become of Bron and the others. But she forced herself not to remove it from her pocket. She withdrew her trembling hand and turned to Durix. He looked back at her solemnly. Neither of them could bear to voice their questions aloud, for they felt that to reveal them would be to make their attendant fears more solid, more absolute.

Leris strode over to them. "I have news from the Pirate General," she said. "Our mission has…changed, somewhat."

"Changed?" said Celestia, confused.

"Well, not changed, as such. _Amended_ would be a more accurate description."

Durix and Celestia stared at Leris.

"You see, General Venvax believes that we are too talented as fighters to simply serve as backup for the others. If we receive word that the others have failed, then we will carry out the original plan. But…until then, we are to pursue another objective."

"What's that?" said Durix nervously.

Leris paused, took a deep breath, and said, "We're going after Vartolius Xax."

**ii.  
The Great Phraxtower**

"M-M-Most High Phraxguardian, sir," stammered a white-robed fourthling, bursting into the sumptuous chambers. "There…there is a f-fleet of sky ships approaching Riverrise!"

"What?" snapped Vartolius Xax, his head jerking around to stare at the intruding Phraxguardian.

The Phraxguardian did not answer, instead turning tail and bolting out of the room before the dictator could call him back. Vartolius Xax rose to his feet, strode across the room, and grabbed his telescope. As he flipped the switches on, it glowed red, the glister inside it powering the automated magnification. Peering into it, he saw a cluster of bright lights approaching from the east.

Slowly, a sneer spread across Vartolius Xax's hard features. After all the tremendous irritations he had had to endure this month—the loss of his flagship, the scattered resistances, the degradation of order in the remote settlements—fate had once more smiled in his direction. It seemed that the fools from Omniphrax had grown a little too bold for their own good.

Vartolius Xax burst out laughing. He collapsed into his magnificent armchair, roaring with mirth. The idiots had achieved the impossible in bringing down the _Vilnix Pompolnius_, and now they had deceived themselves into thinking they could do the same to the city of Riverrise!

"How gracious of those acadimwits to hand me my own final victory," he chuckled. He leapt to his feet once more. There was work to be done. Everything had to be perfect. The destruction of Omniphrax must be swift, total, and above all, humiliating.

Nor, Vartolius Xax noticed as he gazed up into High Sky above him, was this the only piece of news that made his heart leap. Far in the distance, but approaching fast, the dictator could see a massive, throbbing, pulsing bank of clouds that seemed to emanate chaos and power.

"Sky be praised!" He bellowed, dropping to his knees and raising his arms in reverence. "She is returning! Hail, the Mother Storm!"

**iii.  
The Empty Range**

The _Nimbuscleaver_ was being buffeted and battered once more.

As the sky ship flew further and further northwest, and the lights of Riverrise grew fainter and fainter, the howling wind and turbulence was becoming more insistent.

"Not to worry!" shouted Raziel over the wind. "As long as we hold the exact course and maintain a thirty-five degree angle against the wind, the _Nimbuscleaver_ will not be torn to pieces!"

"I don't find that very reassuring!" called Nate from the flight rock platform.

Raziel looked down from the helm, and gave him a sly wink. "Considering the skilled hands sailing her, you should."

Bron feverishly triple-checked the tolley-ropes, making sure that they were completely secure. In this swirling, unstable air, there was no room for error.

"Keep pumping those flight-burner bellows, Nate!" yelled Raziel. "We can't let the wind blow them out, or we'll turn turvey for sure!"

"Aye-aye, captain!"

"And Bron, see to the rigging!"

Bron leapt from his post and checked the rigging. The ropes securing the aftsail and spinnaker were coming undone. Hastily tying off the flapping ends, Bron suddenly noticed something much more worrisome.

"The topsail's rigging is fraying!" he shouted in alarm.

"Then release the sail! We can't risk it expanding freely!"

Bron drew his cutlass and sliced through the main rope securing the topsail. Instantly it flew off into the darkness.

"Get ready to raise the mainsail!" roared Raziel. "We're about to turn to the northeast!"

Bron held the necessary rope ready. A few feet away, on the flight-rock platform, Nate was huffing and puffing almost as loudly as the bellows themselves. Thanks to his efforts, the flight-rock was still warm enough to maintain a steady altitude.

"NOW!"

Bron released the rope, just at the moment that Raziel spun the steering wheel. The _Nimbuscleaver_ twisted in midair, lurched, then shot forward. They had made it. They were now flying above the Empty Range, and on their way to the dark side of the Riverrise mountain.

BOOM!

Bron spun around. The sounds of battle coming from Riverrise were loud enough to hear even from this distance. Dozens of glisterbeams were firing, and the brilliance of the blasts was so great that they cast a white glow over everything. For the first time, the three of them could see the landscape below them, eerily luminous below the still pitch-black sky.

The sinister, craggy peaks of the Empty Range rose up all around them. The Riverrise Mountain loomed far ahead of them, clearly outlined by the brilliance of the thousands of explosions taking place on the other side. It almost looked like a sunrise. Bron looked back over his shoulder to see hundreds more mountains, fading into the distant blackness.

WHUMP!

Abruptly the _Nimbuscleaver_ listed alarmingly to starboard. Nate cried out as he was nearly torn from the flight-rock platform.

"The peri hull-weight!" cried Raziel, wrestling with the controls. "It's tangled in the flight-rock cage!"

"I'm on it!" shouted Bron. He flung himself across the deck, seized a grappling rope, and plunged over the balustrade. Gripping the rope for dear life, he walked down the side of the hull until he saw it. The weight was lodged in the rock cage a couple of strides away from him. He kicked out at the weight with all his might, and it swung free. Instantly, Bron felt the shuddering ship right itself, and started to climb back up.

Suddenly, the rope jerked forward. Bron swung wildly and only just managed to maintain his grip. What had happened?

And then he realized with an icy surge of dread that the _Nimbuscleaver_ had stopped moving. It was clutched in a massive, scaly hand the size of the flight-rock itself. Bron heard the hull splinter and crack. Turning his head slowly, Bron found himself staring into three monstrous red eyes.

The creature to which they belonged was the ugliest, most gargantuan beast he had ever seen in his life. It had a mouthful of gray, serrated fangs, a haphazard mess of horns in all shapes and sizes on top of its misshapen head, and a spiky armored body that was so huge that the creature's legs were lost to darkness. The hand in which it was holding the _Nimbuscleaver_ was attached to the only complex appendage the monster had; the others were a trio of slimy, writhing tentacles.

"A Nameless One," gasped Bron.

**iv.  
The Omniphrax Fleet**

"Arm those catapults!"

"Take aim at that large structure over there!"

"Call back the first wave of ships!"

The deck of the _Edgesaver_ was in total chaos. Everyone was scurrying this way and that, making adjustments, firing the weapons, shouting reports of retaliatory fire. As planned, the _Edgesaver_ was far enough from Riverrise to be out of range of the glisterbeams, but it was by no means out of danger. Dozens of small glisterships were launching offensives and boarding parties. Fortunately, the fighters on board the _Edgesaver _were managing to repel most of the enemy ships.

The Pirates Academic were suffering the brunt of the casualties. As each group of sky pirate ships swooped down over Riverrise, they rained destruction down on the Phraxguardians, but paid with an equal amount of blood. Here and there, sky ships were exploding in flames as glisterbombs and phraxfire globes were shot into the sky.

And all the while, Vartolius Xax's amplified voice boomed out over Riverrise.

"Attention, revolutionaries!" the dictator was bellowing. "Your feeble campaign of terror is too pathetic even to permit me to admire your misplaced bravery. Do you not realize that it is your actions, and not mine, which have doomed your cause? In choosing to attack me, you have decided to allow yourselves to be made a gruesome example of. Your destruction will be known throughout the entire Edge, a resounding message that will endure for eternity. The Phraxguardians are invincible! The return of the Mother Storm is proof! She will cleanse the Edge of its impurities, just as we shall cleanse it of dissidents!"

The approaching fleet paid Vartolius Xax no heed. But at the same time, for every ship that successfully bombed one of the circular white defense towers of the Phraxguardians, another vanished inside a glisterbeam or spun, burning, towards the ground.

Worse still, the oncoming glisterships were beginning to overwhelm the _Edgesaver_. Though most of the ships were being blasted out of the sky, a few of them had broken through the expanding aerial conflagration and swooped in close to the mighty vessel, pounding its hull with bombs and unloading swarms of Phraxguardians onto the deck. Most worrisome of all, some of the glisterships were assaulting the "escort" fleet protecting the flight-rock and the thermal phraxchambers. The closely-packed swarm of sky ships was putting up a tremendous fight, but the defenders couldn't hold out forever.

Up inside the enclosed helm of the _Edgesaver_, Tesener Burlix and Philbus Venvax made feverish adjustments to the ship's course, not saying a word to each other, beads of sweat trickling down their brows. Each of them feared for the thousands upon thousands of jeopardized lives, and ached for the thousands upon thousands which were already lost.

Yet they knew that every last academic would fight till the very end. And so would they.

**v.  
The _Typhoonblaster_**

Celestia and Durix raised their heads. The darkness was thinning, giving way to the tops of clouds underneath the pink and purple shafts of a rising sun. Unlike the carnage below, this place was completely calm.

Leris adjusted the controls of the _Typhoonblaster_, and they began to head towards the peak of the Riverrise spring, protruding just above the cloud layer. The once-magnificent Garden of Life which had once rested at the very top, however, had given way to the base of a great, spherical, pure-white tower, just like those below it, which extended farther into the sky than the three of them could see.

At the top of this tower, they knew, was Vartolius Xax.

Shortly before the battle had begun, they had boarded the sky ship _Typhoonblaster_ and separated from the rest of the fleet. However, they still witnessed the first few moments of the battle, which had erupted from nowhere and unfolded immediately into scenes of carnage and destruction. Mercifully, this moment was short-lived, and a few seconds later, they were too far up in the sky to see any more.

Under normal circumstances, no sky ship could have reached even half of this height without turning turvey and hurtling under the stinging frigidity of High Sky. But, once again, the Phraxguardians would prove to be victims of their own device. In preparation for the Mother Storm, they had engaged a network of turbines up and down the Great Phraxtower which circulated warm air around the structure. They believed that a higher temperature would be more conducive to the Mother Storm's sacred discharge. But it also made it possible for a sky ship to safely approach the highest point of the tower, countless thousands of strides above the ground.

Despite this, however, the flight-rock was still proving temperamental. The turbines did not distribute the heat perfectly, creating some pockets of freezing air. Every time the _Typhoonblaster_ sailed through one of these invisible pockets, the flight rock whistled and shook in its cradle. Whenever this happened, Celestia seized the flight-burner bellows and pumped for all she was worth.

"So, what are we going to do when…when we get there?" said Durix shakily.

"Take him out," said Leris coldly. "You two are good with phraxpistols, and I am proficient at close combat, despite being a tad past my prime. But be warned that we are facing an opponent who is not only a brutal tactician, but also an exceptionally skilled fighter. They say that when his army first marched on Riverrise, he positioned himself at the front of the charge, and personally slaughtered more waifs than any one of his soldiers. Plenty of tyrants throughout the history of the Edge have been too cowardly to get their own hands dirty. Vartolius Xax is not one of them."

These ominous words echoed around the heads of the other two. Celestia and Durix patted the phraxpistols at their belts, and Leris drew an ornate cutlass.

"Brace yourselves," Leris said. "We're almost there."

Sure enough, the top of the Great Phraxtower was growing nearer and nearer. Soon, they could all make out a large, deserted balcony.

"He hasn't noticed us," said Leris. "That's good. We may be able to take him by surprise. If we are lucky, we might be able to end the fight before it begins, but I wouldn't count on it. The instant he realizes what's going on, he'll spring into action."

**vi.  
The Empty Range**

With a roar, the Nameless One shook the _Nimbuscleaver_. Bron gripped the grappling rope for dear life, certain at any moment that it would be wrenched from his grasp and he would plummet to his death.

"The flight-burners!" yelled Raziel. "We can burn it! Pump the bellows, Nate!"

But at that moment, the beast shook the _Nimbuscleaver_ again. With a scream, Nate was thrown from the flight-rock platform and only just managed to prevent himself from tumbling over the side by clinging to the balustrade just above Bron.

Trying to ignore the terrible tremors of the splintering sky ship and the Nameless One's roars, Bron climbed the side of the rock cage. He swung himself over onto the deck, seized Nate's hands, and tugged with all his might. The ancient lamplighter gasped and wheezed, and then lunged forward, coming to rest in a crumpled heap at Bron's feet.

Seizing the edge of the balustrade to hold himself steady, Bron pulled Nate to his feet and pushed him towards the flight-rock platform. The _Nimbuscleaver_ suddenly tilted the other way, and Nate staggered uncontrollably forwards, crying out in pain as he hit the edge of the platform. Looking slightly dazed, he hauled himself up and grasped the bellows, wrenching them up and down.

Instantly the flight-burners flared hotter than ever, the flames licking the Nameless One's scaly hand. The creature let out a terrible scream that seemed to make the mountains themselves tremble. It recoiled, relinquishing its grip, and at once the _Nimbuscleaver_ plummeted, the overheated flight-rock dragging it down. Nate released his hold on the bellows at once.

"Don't stop pumping!" yelled Raziel. "The wind will cool the rock in a matter of seconds! Be ready to stabilize the temperature or we're done for!"

Nate resumed his efforts, though more gently. And as the ground came rushing up to meet the _Nimbuscleaver_, the ship leveled out just in time and soared upwards. Nate's efforts soon brought the ship back under control.

"Damage report, Bron?" called out Raziel over the screaming of the wind and the still audible howls of the Nameless One behind them.

"The aft-hull is splintered in places, captain!" replied Bron, scanning everything by the still-brilliant glow of the distant battle. "And the starboard neben-hull weight was dislodged!"

As if to emphasize Bron's words, the _Nimbuscleaver_ listed violently to port.

"Cut the port neben-hull weight, Bron!" shouted Raziel.

"Aye-aye!" yelled Bron, dashing to the aftcastle and entering the weight cable room. Drawing his cutlass, Bron severed the cable for the port neben-hull weight. Immediately the _Nimbuscleaver_ righted itself as the weight fell away into the blackness below, though the loss of two hull weights was causing the sky ship to wobble insistently.

"We were lucky," said Raziel. "The damage could have been much worse. Sailing the _Nimbuscleaver_ will be more of a challenge now, but we still have control."

Bron breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're nearly there!" shouted Raziel abruptly.

The west slope of the Riverrise Mountain loomed ahead, and its shadow plunged the _Nimbuscleaver_ into darkness.

Raziel's hands became blurred as she wrestled with the flight-levers, steepening their descent and slowing their forward movement.

"Captain," said Bron, suddenly realizing something. "Once we disembark from the _Nimbuscleaver_, how will we keep her flight-rock warm? Without someone attending to the flight-burners, won't she tear free of her anchoring cables and be whisked away?"

"No, she won't, thanks to the Pirates' latest invention," said Raziel, as they came in to land on the rocky slope, throwing down the anchoring ropes and activating a mysterious device that Bron had not noticed. "It's a tiny phraxchamber that warms the flight-rock at a steady temperature. It's not as advanced as the_ Edgesaver_'s phraxchambers, so we can't use it to control the temperature in flight, but it will keep the flight-rock stable when the ship is docked."

The three of them climbed down from the _Nimbuscleaver_, and raced forwards. As one, they reached into the pouches at their belts, pulled out some sky-crystals and torches, and struck them together. They sparked and created a burst of flame, illuminating the vast tunnel stretching ahead of them into the side of the mountain.

"Here we are," breathed Raziel, just audible over the howling gusts surrounding them. "The Support Tunnel."


	23. Chapter 22: The Support Tunnel

**i.  
The Deck of the _Edgesaver_**

The situation aboard the _Edgesaver_ was critical, and everyone on board knew it.

The mighty flagship of the Pirates Academic may have been out of range of the glisterbeams, but the Phraxguardians' ships were now swarming it, pounding the vessel with wave after wave of glisterbombs and phraxfire. Flames were spreading all over the deck, but every time some of the crew mobilized to extinguish the conflagrations, the defenses were weakened by that many people.

Masts splintered and burned, sails flew everywhere, explosions blasted burning wounds in the hull. And with every hit, a handful of Omniphrax academics fell. At the helm, Tesener Burlix and Philbus Venvax struggled to keep the _Edgesaver_ under control, but this task became more difficult with every passing second. The ship bucked and lurched, shuddered and dipped, as the circling glisterships continued to pound it from all sides.

The only area of the ship that had so far resisted any damage was the flight-rock cage. The "escort" fleet was valiantly holding off the glisterships, but their numbers were dwindling too. Here and there, sky ships plummeted to earth or hurtled as the Phraxguardians rained destruction on them, leaving gaps in the swarm. These gaps were filled again almost instantly as the remaining ships moved around, but this technique was becoming less and less effective as the battle wore on.

"Detach the eighth jib!" Philbus Venvax's voice boomed out across the flaming deck. "Cut the fourth medium starboard hull-weight! We must keep balanced! We cannot…"

All of a sudden, the _Edgesaver_ began to shiver and convulse more alarmingly than ever. The "escort" fleet had at last succumbed, and the glisterships were opening fire on the temperature-regulating phraxchambers.

"Take to the skiffs!" roared Tesener Burlix. "The _Edgesaver_ is doomed! Abandon ship!"

Suddenly, there was an enormous explosion. The phraxchambers had detonated, and white-hot flames poured from the underside of the hull. Absorbing the heat, the flight-rock plummeted, dragging the _Edgesaver_ with it. Burning pieces of mast and hull rained down like shooting stars.

The rushing wind abruptly extinguished the flames, and the flight-rock grew stable once more. The _Edgesaver_ hung suspended at a jaunty angle, completely stationary, as the circling glisterships continued to launch their terrible volleys.

Tesener Burlix and Philbus Venvax burst through the lower doors of the aftcastle, dodging piles of flaming debris and skirting holes in the deck, heading for the place where the surviving crewmembers were hastily leaping onto skiffs mounted along the sides of the deck. Only half of the small craft remained, the other half having been obliterated in the attack, but an even smaller fraction of the original army was still alive, and there were more than enough skiffs to transport everyone to safety.

The High Senator and the Pirate General sprung forwards, assisting the others as they climbed into the skiffs. "You must hurry." said Philbus Venvax urgently to the crowd. "The _Edgesaver_ will not remain steady for long, without anything warming the flight-rock. It could hurtle at any moment."

"Come with us!" shouted several of the fighters, shifting around to make room in their skiffs, but the two of them shook their heads gravely.

"We will stay with the _Edgesaver_ to the end," said Tesener Burlix. "Earth and Sky willing, this will not have been in vain. Fair fortune be with all of you."

And with that, the two of them turned and disappeared inside the blazing aftcastle.

As each of the skiffs were cut loose and sped away, their occupants looked back. The eyes of thousands of trogs, trolls, elves, goblins, fettleleggers, slaughterers, and fourthlings stared on, unblinking, wide, and swimming with tears, as the _Edgesaver_ creaked, juddered, rose, shot upwards, and was swallowed by the blackness.

**ii.  
The top of the Great Phraxtower**

Vartolius Xax, Glorious Leader of the Deepwoods and Most High Phraxguardian of Riverrise, collapsed onto one of his many sofas, staring up at the ceiling.

It was all going perfectly, he thought to himself. Things could not have played out better.

That ridiculous sky ship, the _Edgesaver_, had never stood a chance. His minions down below had just informed him that it had hurtled, taking two of the leaders of Omniphrax with it. Many of the crew had escaped on skiffs, but they would be easy to deal with. They had no weapons to speak of; they would not be a threat.

The spectacular, humiliating defeat of Omniphrax was nearly finished. And then he would never have to be concerned with troublesome revolutionaries again.

Suddenly, Vartolius Xax jerked upright. He had heard something. Something that sounded like…like a sky ship…

At that moment, a shadow passed over the magnificent chamber. The view beyond the balcony was being obscured by a hull.

"What is this?" he snarled under his breath as he rose to his feet and strode towards the balcony.

And then, three fourthlings landed on the balcony. A girl with brown plaits, a black-haired boy with a hollow face, and an elderly woman dressed in the blue greatcoat of a Pirate Academic. The boy and girl were pointing phraxpistols directly at the dictator, and the woman was unsheathing a cutlass.

"Assassins," Vartolius Xax hissed. He leapt sideways and pulled out a large, menacing glistergun. "You'll have to do far better than that!"

The glistergun sprayed a continuous deluge of energy charges. Leris flung herself to the right, dragging Durix and Celestia out of harm's way before leaping towards Vartolius Xax, cutlass slicing downwards. The dictator sidestepped the blow and took aim with his glistergun once more.

Durix leapt forwards, raising his phraxpistol, and Vartolius Xax wheeled to face him. Durix cried out as Vartolius Xax's boot made contact with his stomach, and he fell backwards, winded.

Celestia, meanwhile, was firing her phraxpistol again and again, crouched on the other side of the room. Vartolius Xax dodged the leadwood bullets and turned his glistergun on her. At that moment, Leris sprang to her feet and seized the dictator from behind. Vartolius Xax turned and punched her in the face, and she collapsed.

"I can hold you off as long as you like," sneered Vartolius Xax, blocking Durix again and dancing away from Celestia's line of fire. "Let me know when you're ready for me to end it."

**iii.  
The Support Tunnel**

Bron, Nate, and Raziel crept furtively along the pitch-black tunnel, torches held aloft. They were unsure exactly what they would find down here, or how much caution was required to avoid attracting the Phraxguardians. To be on the safe side, they were making as little noise as possible, and were ready to extinguish their torches at the slightest sign of movement.

The sides of the tunnel were damp and rocky, but the floor was paved with large stone blocks. Despite their efforts to remain silent, their footsteps echoed loudly. Bron's heart was pounding, and his ears were alert for any other noise. He heard none.

Suddenly, a shaft of faint golden light became visible, spilling from beyond a corner.

"Phraxlamps," whispered Nate softly. "Perfectly calibrated to twilight glow. I'd recognize them anywhere…spent most of my youth around them."

"It'll be the stormphrax lining of the Great Phraxtower," muttered Raziel. "The Phraxguardians must place those lamps all along the interior of the lining to keep it stable. If there are open phraxlamps, the base of the stormphrax wall must be in here."

They turned the corner, and stopped in their tracks, looking in awe at the chamber in front of them. "Earth and Sky," whispered Bron.

The chamber they found themselves in was the size of the ancient Great Library of Sanctaphrax. Rows and rows of tremendous pillars stood about the room, thick and solid. The upper half of the walls of the chamber, meanwhile, consisted of a solid sheet of phraxcrystals, sparkling and gleaming so brilliantly they were almost painful to look at. Spaced every few strides around the wall were glowing phraxlamps, bathing the room in the dim twilight glow that they had seen from the tunnel.

As they stepped into the room and wandered amongst the Bracing Pillars, the _clomp-clomp-clomp_ noise of their footsteps bouncing off every surface, Bron's heart sank. He gazed around hopelessly at the mighty columns.

"How are we ever going to destroy these?" he said desperately. "They're just too big and sturdy."

"There is only one way to do it," said Raziel grimly. She reached into her belt and pulled out a familiar object.

"The skyflare!" said Bron in amazement. "You were holding onto it the whole time?"

"It was my plan all along," Raziel answered with a smile.

"But I don't understand," said Bron, still confused. "Even if we fired it at one of the pillars, there would still be dozens and dozens more."

"It will work as long as we fire it in precisely the right way," answered Raziel. "If we walk along the far side of the chamber to one of the outermost rows, and fire it straight ahead. If all goes well, the first pillar will fall into the second, which will fall into the third, starting a chain reaction until the entire row is gone. Then, with the entire outer row gone, the structure of the room will be thrown off balance. The row next to it will collapse, and then the row after it, and in that way, all the pillars will end up destroyed. But…"

Suddenly, Raziel frowned.

"What's wrong?" said Bron anxiously.

"We…we won't have time to get out." she said softly.

Nate and Bron stared at her, horrified.

"Once the first row collapses, the room will start to buckle," Raziel muttered. "The pressure on the walls will make the phraxlamps explode, and the temporary burst of light will render the stormphrax lining volatile. Then, it will release its energy as the walls continue to fracture. The moment we light that skyflare, this chamber will turn into a ticking time bomb. The stormphrax will detonate long before we can reach the exit."

The three of them stared around at each other, all thinking the same thing. Each of them was prepared to sacrifice their lives if it meant saving the Edge. As one, they solemnly nodded their heads. But then, all of a sudden, something happened that rendered the choice of martyrdom much more difficult.

The phrax transmitter in Bron's pocket sprang to life.

"We're in trouble!" shouted Celestia's panicked voice from the speaker. "Vartolius Xax has shot Leris!"

Bron stiffened. "The others need help," he said. "We can't die. We're the only ones who can save them."

"We need to make a decision fast," said Raziel, running towards the end of the chamber and beckoning to Bron and Nate to follow her. "The Mother Storm is almost here, remember. And even if we survive, it might be too late for us to save the others. Plus, remember that the Phraxguardians can pick up our signals. If they didn't know we were here before, they definitely do now."

**iv.  
The Omniphrax Fleet**

The skiffs remained motionless in midair as their passengers continued to stare up at the place where the _Edgesaver_ had disappeared. Sobs filled the air, only just audible over the massive explosions.

Abruptly, albeit with great difficulty, the surviving academics tore their gaze away and leapt back into action. The _Edgesaver_ may have been destroyed, but the Phraxguardians weren't finished. The fearsome fleet of glisterships now turned their weapons on the skiffs, ready to pick off the survivors one at a time.

The skiffs had no way of defending themselves. There were no weapons on board. All they could do was to flee, weaving and swerving in a desperate attempt to avoid the blasts and bangs and fiery bursts of the Phraxguardians' weapons. Here and there, skiffs burst into flame, their occupants screaming and tumbling over the side.

The remaining Pirates Academic were now retreating too, flying away from Riverrise as fast as they could. The Omniphrax academics were finished. They had done all they could do. It was time to flee with as many survivors as they could. The odds of battling through the swirling turbulence of the skies above the Thorn Forests seemed slim indeed without the _Edgesaver_, but it probably didn't matter in any case, if the end of the world was upon them.

The skiffs began to meet up with the ships, the Pirates helping the shaking, sobbing fighters onto the deck and steering them into the holds. A few ships were blasted out of the sky as the Pirates were distracted, but most of the ships smartly sent only one crew member to assist the others, the remaining Pirates continuing to sail the sky ships.

All around, the sky was beginning to swirl menacingly. The Mother Storm was almost upon them, and though it was far too high up to see, the winds were agitating the cloud layers below, conjuring up rain and lightning and hail. The sounds of gunfire and explosions were now being drowned by the deafening cacophony of the weather.

"This is it," said one of the Pirates, looking up at the sky from his position at the helm. "We're doomed. All is lost."

"It appears that way, cap'n," said a member of his crew, untangling a knotted mass of ropes, "but remember, we always knew this part of the battle would play out this way. So long as the party down in the Support Tunnel succeeds, we'll snatch victory from the jaws of defeat."

"There's precious little time, Skett," replied the captain. "If that tower doesn't fall in a few minutes…"

"Look!" bellowed a cloddertrog on another nearby vessel, pointing towards the east. "What's that?"

As one, the academics of Omniphrax turned to see a massive fleet of glisterships heading for Riverrise, propulsion ducts screaming and glisterjets throbbing. Frantically, the Pirates Academic made to fly faster. But as they drew nearer, it suddenly became clear that these glisterships were not being sailed by Phraxguardians. The bellowing, chanting individuals piloting these vessels wore the tattered rags of the Great Glade slums, the stained uniforms of Hive prisoners, and trailed the broken shackles of factory slaves.

A gray trog standing on the deck of one of these glisterships bellowed, "Omniphrax shall not perish! In the name of liberty and justice, _attack!_"

At his words, the glisterships unleashed a wave of fury upon the astonished Phraxguardians. Glisterbombs, phraxfire, rapid-fire catapults, and blazing harpoons tore into the Riverrise fleet, which was crumpling under this sudden deluge.

"Wh-what's happening?" stammered an astonished Pirate.

"Who are you?" called out another.

"We are the dregs of society, the downtrodden, the have-nots condemned to a life of suffering by the Empire!" shouted back the gray trog. "We have risen against the Phraxguardians to send the message that we will not live by their rules any longer. We shall see to it that you are victorious!"

The glisterships trembled as their occupants responded with a deafening cheer.

"It's the effect of the mind storms!" shouted a Sanctaphrax academic to a colleague over the howl of the wind and rain and the sounds of battle, the two of them poking their heads above deck to witness the mayhem. "They must have triggered the uprisings in Great Glade and Hive!"

"And that's not all the mind storms are inspiring!" exclaimed the other, pointing behind them. "Look!"

Like a fleet of angry woodwasps, a swarm of skycraft was swooping down over the towers of Riverrise, each one piloted by a waif. Leading the swarm was Kilfitresse, shaking her tiny fist in the air, her screeching war cry echoing through the minds of the onlookers. "_TAKE THEM OUT!_"

The waifs flew directly at the Phraxguardians manning the weapon towers. Some of them clutched at their necks and toppled over the side, succumbing to the volley of blackroot-oil darts. A few others stood frozen, apparently unable to move, as the waifs projected their underthoughts. Exactly what the waifs were planting in the minds of the Phraxguardians, none of the academics could tell. But whatever thoughts they were, they had a devastating effect. The Phraxguardians screamed, clutching their heads, eyes rolling. Some of them staggered backwards and fell off the towers, while others simply collapsed, twitching horribly.

Within a minute, the tide of the battle had turned. Emboldened by the crippling blows their enemies were being dealt, the Pirates Academic advanced again, blasting towers and glisterships.

Nevertheless, the Phraxguardians still had superior numbers, and before long, some of the newcomers were suffering casualties. Glisterships and skycraft exploded here and there, plummeting into the darkness below. And unlike the fresh fighters, the Pirates Academic knew that even if they could win the battle, they wouldn't win the war. That would only happen if the agents down in the Support Tunnel took out the Bracing Pillars. And as the Mother Storm drew closer and closer, gaining in energy and power, the situation was looking bleaker.

**v.  
The top of the Great Phraxtower**

As Celestia tossed the phrax transmitter aside, Vartolius Xax slowly turned to face her. A second before, Leris had collapsed with a gaping hole in her leg. One of the energy charges from Vartolius Xax's glistergun had passed through it, and the dictator had been moving in for the kill. However, the moment he had heard Celestia scream "We're in trouble! Vartolius Xax has shot Leris!" he had frozen in his tracks.

"Who did you just contact?" he growled, advancing on Celestia. Celestia backed away.

"I asked you a question!" screamed Vartolius Xax, lunging forward, seizing Celestia, and shaking her. "Answer me, Omniphrax scum, before I splatter your worthless head across my wall!"

Celestia said nothing, keeping her mouth tightly shut. Then, slowly, she gave the dictator a triumphant grin.

Vartolius Xax's eyes widened. He wrenched Celestia away from him as though she was diseased, and backed away, looking shocked.

Apparently forgetting all about his quarry, he leaped over an armchair and punched the button for a transmitter in the wall. "Trace the foreign signal, NOW!"

A garbled, crackly voice responded through the speaker, and Vartolius Xax turned around to face the others, his face stark white.

"The Support Tunnel," he breathed. "You…you've been playing us all along."

Leris attempted to sit up, grimacing in agony, and said in a triumphant whisper, "So they made it. They succeeded."

"Not yet they haven't," snarled Vartolius Xax in a deadly voice. "They won't get the chance. Nor will you live long enough to see me tear them to pieces."

"You deluded fool," said Leris, as blood continued to seep onto the fluffy white carpet. "Can't you see that you've doomed the Edge?"

"What madness is this?" snapped the dictator.

"Your foul glister technology," replied Leris. "It has drained the world of its life energy. It caused the Blight. The Mother Storm hasn't returned to reward you. She has returned to punish you."

Vartolius Xax stared down at the wounded woman with the utmost contempt.

"When she strikes, the force of all your stormphrax exploding will be multiplied a thousandfold by her energy. Riverrise will be destroyed. The glisters will flee into open sky. Life on the Edge will end, and it will be entirely your fault."

Vartolius Xax took a step closer. "When the Mother Storm strikes," he said, "it will mean the end of all _impure_ life on the Edge. The work begun by the great Orbix Xaxis shall end tonight. I feel no shred of pity for those who will not live to see the spectacular new age the Phraxguardians shall forge…because their disappearance is the _reason_ why the new age we forge shall be spectacular."

**vi.  
The Support Tunnel**

"Freeze!" bellowed a voice from the other side of the chamber. Bron, Nate, and Raziel wheeled around to see a group of Phraxguardians bursting out of a door and dashing towards them, glisterguns drawn.

"What are we going to do?" exclaimed Bron, dashing behind a pillar to avoid several bursts of energy.

"There is only one thing we can do," said Nate softly.

Bron and Raziel turned to him uneasily.

"Give me the skyflare," said Nate, holding out his hand. "Then you two can get out of here. I will see to it that the plan succeeds."

"We can't leave you!" said Bron desperately. "I'll stay behind. You have more experience…you can rescue the others!"

"No…I shall do it," insisted Raziel, clutching the skyflare. "It is my duty as a Pirate Academic Captain."

"You are kind," said Nate, tugging the skyflare from Raziel's grip, "But I am over five hundred years old. Like the Immortals before me, the story of my life must end. I shall return to Open Sky as a glister, as all things eventually must. My final task will be to ensure that that cycle will not end here. You still have things you need to do."

There was a silence, apart from the approaching footsteps of the Phraxguardians and the blasts from the glisterguns. Then, Bron and Raziel nodded together, and before they could think about what they were doing any more, turned and dashed for the exit. "Earth and Sky protect you, Nate Quarter," muttered Bron, tears forming in his eyes. "I am honored to have known you."

As they turned the corner, they heard a crash. Then another crash, followed by another, and another. "He's done it," said Raziel, in a choked voice. "He's succeeded."

Continuing down the tunnel, Bron continued to listen. The chamber they had left was cracking and groaning. Suddenly, there was a shattering noise and a series of sharp cracks. Then…

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The tunnel trembled violently, rocks falling everywhere, as the tens of thousands of volatile phraxcrystals released their energy. Bron felt a searing heat on his back as he tore down the passage. The torches had gone out, but they were no longer necessary; the glare from the explosion was illuminating the whole tunnel.

Finally, they burst out of the mouth of the tunnel into the squalling wind on the western flank of the Riverrise Mountain. The _Nimbuscleaver_ was right where it had been before.

"This is going to be tricky," said Raziel. "You'll have to be our stone pilot as well as your other roles. But this will be a short trip; the winds will get less violent once we reach the other side of the mountain."

As they leapt into the air, Bron frantically dashed back and forth between the flight-rock platform and the sail ropes. Even in spite of his best efforts, the _Nimbuscleaver_ was almost impossible to control, threatening at any time to turn turvey. Guided by the light of the explosions still taking place on the other side of the mountain, they managed slowly and painfully reach calmer air. Now, Bron's job became far easier. He didn't need to constantly cool the flight-rock, as the air was much warmer now.

Upon reaching the other side of the Riverrise Mountain, Bron's heart suddenly leapt. It was beginning to sink in. They had taken out the Bracing Pillars! The Great Phraxtower was doomed! What was more, the battle seemed, incredibly, to be turning in favor of the academics. Bron soon realized that they had been joined up by some other forces. He didn't stop to think who they were or why they were there, battling with the academics, but instead turned to look at the Great Phraxtower, which was even now beginning to sway gently.

"Wait a minute…" said Raziel. She turned pale. "This…this isn't good."

"What's wrong?" said Bron.

"We're too late," replied Raziel, pointing at the sky. "Look."

Sure enough, the Mother Storm was already above the Great Phraxtower, judging from the patterns and swirls disturbing the lower cloud layers. She had not yet released her burst of energy, but seemed to be preparing to do so.

Bron's blood went cold. Their efforts had been for nothing. The Great Phraxtower was going to topple, but not before the Mother Storm struck. The Edge was still doomed. After all their suffering, all the pain and the loss of life, they had failed. Bron looked up at Raziel, whose face was clouded with the same frustration and anger that Bron felt.

And then, the weather changed. Shimmering, icy raindrops began to fall from the sky, and Bron suddenly experienced a leaping, giddy invigoration that was battling with his dread and despair. And as these emotions fought with each other, Bron experienced a moment of blinding clarity.

"There's still a chance," he said. "If we fly the _Nimbuscleaver_ to the top of the Great Phraxtower before the Mother Storm strikes, we can ram the ship into the side of the structure, and make it topple faster. And…and the others are up there, too! We can destroy the Great Phraxtower and rescue Durix, Celestia, and Leris at the same time!"

Raziel froze, apparently thinking. Then, she said, with a touch of her usual self, "That's just crazy enough to work! But we have to act now…the clock is ticking. Come on!"


	24. Chapter 23: Destruction

**i.  
The _Nimbuscleaver_**

Bron knew that time was of the essence. Every second counted; every moment adding to the crescendo in Bron's chest as it slipped away.

With a _whoosh_, the _Nimbuscleaver_ broke through the black cloud layers shrouding the base of Riverrise and plunged into the clear sky above, bathed in the pink light of breaking dawn, only just visible through the looming shadow of the Mother Storm and the cascading raindrops.

The only landmark amidst the sea of clouds was the Great Phraxtower, which was now beginning to sway alarmingly. Here and there, viaducts and arches crumbled, elaborate glister machinery fell and smashed, and white-robed Phraxguardians were pitched off balconies, screaming and flailing as they tumbled through the electric, torrential downpour into the clouds below. The tower was definitely going to topple spectacularly…but unless they did something within the next few minutes, it would still remain standing long enough for the Mother Storm's mighty discharge to pass through it.

"Hurry, Bron!" shouted Raziel, gazing up at the underside of the atmospheric behemoth, in which streaks of vapor and forks of lightning were beginning to coil and gather, as if caught in a whirlpool. "Keep the flight-rock as cool as you can without losing control!"

"Aye-aye!" called Bron, his chest now pounding. He slackened his efforts on the bellows a bit, but he did not dare use the cooling-rods. As more and more of the Phraxguardians' High Sky turbines short-circuited, the air became increasingly unstable, slowly reverting back to its naturally frigid, turbulent state, helped along by the howling gale-force winds of the Mother Storm. Anything sudden changes to the flight-rock's temperature could be disastrous.

At last, the top of the Great Phraxtower came into view, situated directly below the screaming vortex of rain and lightning. "VARTOLIUS XAX!" bellowed Bron, his voice lost to the squalling wind, "THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS!"

**ii.  
The top of the Great Phraxtower**

A mere fraction of a second before Vartolius Xax could fire his glistergun at Celestia's heart, the dictator was knocked off his feet. The whole room was pitching back and forth, furniture and apparatuses sliding everywhere, books toppling from shelves, stacks of papers flying everywhere. For one moment, Durix, Celestia, and Leris could see a look of abject terror upon his face.

Then, his expression changed, and he let out a bone-chilling cackle of laughter.

"You think you have beaten me?" he roared, pointing out towards the roiling wall of clouds outside the balcony. "It matters not! The Mother Storm will strike in a matter of moments, and the Great Phraxtower will remain standing long enough to receive her sacred discharge!"

Staggering to his feet, Vartolius Xax shoved Celestia and Durix towards the far wall and strode to the balcony, the wild laughter still twisting his face. He seized the tether securing the _Typhoonblaster_ to the balcony. "I shall watch from afar, aboard the final vestige of your worthless First Age of Flight, as you infidels become the first to be blown away by the winds of purification!"

Leris tried to get up, but collapsed again, unable to put any weight on her wounded leg. Durix and Celestia sprinted forwards, but flew back again and slammed against the wall as the tower swayed back in their direction. Vartolius Xax merely clutched the balustrade, now positively screaming with triumphant laughter.

And then, a dark shadow swooped down from above and knocked Vartolius Xax flying back into the chamber.

"Bron!" Celestia screamed, hurling herself forwards onto the balcony and seizing him. "I knew you'd come back for us!" she said…then kissed him hard on the mouth. After a few seconds, during which Bron was only vaguely aware of what was happening, he wrenched himself free of her and said, "Not now, Celestia. We're seconds away from the end of the Edgeworld!"

Celestia backed off, but seemed quite unabashed. Bron gave his head an experimental shake, then shot a look back into the chamber at Vartolius Xax. The dictator seemed slightly dazed, but was quickly regaining his senses.

"Celestia! Leris!" bellowed Durix, emerging from the balcony and pointing into the sky. "It's Raziel!"

The _Nimbuscleaver_ loomed out of the nebulous, swirling air, a dark shape heading directly for the side of the Great Phraxtower. As the ship flew past the _Typhoonblaster_, Raziel sprinted away from the controls and leapt from the helm, flying over the abyss before coming to land on the helm of the other ship, grunting as she made contact with the floor. "Come on!" she screamed, beckoning frantically to the other four. "On board! NOW!"

The Great Phraxtower began to swing the other way, tilting towards the _Typhoonblaster_. As one, Bron and Celestia leapt onto the deck, and Durix followed closely behind, holding Leris in a fireman's carry. With one swift slash of her cutlass, Raziel severed the tether, and as Bron heated the flight-rock, Raziel pulled down on three of the bone-handled flight levers at once. The _Typhoonblaster_ shot away from the balcony of the swaying tower like a leadwood bullet from a phraxmusket.

**iii.  
The _Typhoonblaster_**

The five of them looked back at the _Nimbuscleaver_, flying uncontrollably forwards. Then…

SMASH!

As the sleek sky pirate ship smashed into smithereens against the side of the Great Phraxtower, the structure was knocked backward wildly, now swaying five times as furiously. Suddenly, from far below, a chain of explosions started to grow louder and louder.

"The stormphrax," whispered Bron.

The very same chain reaction that had destroyed the Support Tunnel was now making its way up the side of the tower. As more and more phraxlamps were destroyed, more and more of the phraxcrystals either detonated or became tremendously heavy, dragging the walls down with it.

The lower floors started to crumple like an empty tinwood bottle. Pieces of the walls shot outward, exposing gaps from which the brilliant flashes of exploding phraxcrystals were revealed. The destruction continued upwards, heading straight for the private chambers of Vartolius Xax.

**iv.  
The top of the Great Phraxtower**

Vartolius Xax staggered to his feet, swayed unsteadily, and looked around. It was time to end this battle.

But…where were those fools? And where was their sky ship?

As the truth dawned on the dictator, the sounds of explosions on lower floors began to grow louder and louder. In addition to the swaying, the room was now seized by violent tremors. Cracks snaked their way up the walls. Pieces of the tiled ceiling rained down. A vast chunk of wall near Vartolius Xax was expelled outwards with tremendous force, exposing the gleaming, shimmering layer of phraxcrystals behind it.

Vartolius Xax threw back his head and bellowed, a guttural scream of rage which seemed almost to intensify the juddering of the room. The explosions were growing deafening, and the shaking was worsening. Vartolius Xax wheeled around…just as the exposed phraxcrystals erupted.

The entire room was filled with the brilliant flash of ten thousand lightning bolts as the stormphrax released its energy. Everything within vanished in a tremendous fireball. And as the top of the Great Phraxtower was blasted into a million pieces, a dark shape was spat out of the great conflagration like a woodsap pip. The charred, broken, lifeless body of Vartolius Xax, Glorious Leader of the Deepwoods and Most High Phraxguardian of Riverrise, sailed up into the air, hung suspended for a moment in the pouring rain, and then fell, gathering speed, and finally fading away into the dark clouds, far, far below.

**v.  
The _Typhoonblaster_**

"Look! Look! The Great Phraxtower's toppling! It's going down!" yelled Durix, jumping up and down and pointing up at the tower. At last, succumbing to the pull of gravity, the Great Phraxtower began to fall backwards, towards the Empty Range. In eerie silence, the mighty structure twisted free of its moorings and fell…down, down, down…

Finally, with an echoing crash, it disappeared completely into the darkness beyond Riverrise.

The Mother Storm began to descend through the sky, approaching the freshly-revealed waters of the Riverrise spring. The eyes of everyone aboard the _Typhoonblaster_ followed the mighty maelstrom as she came to rest just above the pool.

"Vartolius Xax was right about one thing," said Leris, her eyes wide. "The event we are witnessing is indeed sacred."

The swirling vortex at the center of the Mother Storm was growing brighter, faster, more furious…and then, at that instant, the discharge was released.

With an earsplitting roar, the Mother Storm ejected a solid stream of water, coiled lightning, and an unidentifiable, luminous, multicolored glow. Tendrils of light shot forth from the place that the column had struck. Even from their distant viewing point, Bron felt his hair stand on end as a wave of energy swept over him. For several moments, everything was obscured by the white glare of the eruption. Then, the noise and light slowly subsided. The strange colorful glow remained, however.

Raziel adjusted the flight-levers, and the _Typhoonblaster_ swerved, making a course for the top of the Riverrise Mountain. And as they drew closer, Bron recognized the glow for what it was.

Glisters. Millions upon millions of glisters.


	25. Chapter 24: The Caterbird

Bron, Durix, Celestia, and Raziel stepped off of the _Typhoonblaster_ in awe.

Even now, the Mother Storm was receding away into the distant sky, and the wild weather had subsided. Bron gazed around in awe at the swarms of glisters sparkling and flashing in the air. As he watched, they began to drift downwards, into the water of the Riverrise spring, where, he knew, they would be carried off by the Edgewater River to blossom into life somewhere else in the Edgeworld.

Bron then examined their surroundings. All that remained of the Great Phraxtower were a few twisted fragments of stone columns. The mechanism holding back the water had been destroyed, and it was now flowing steadily down into the darkness below. For the first time in hundreds of years, the Riverrise spring water would once again be available to all.

The water…

Bron dashed back on board the _Typhoonblaster_ and grabbed an empty tankard. He then dashed back to the pool, filled the tankard to the brim, and ran over to Leris.

"Drink it, grandmother," he said, offering Leris the restorative water. "It's for your leg."

Within a few seconds, she had drained the tankard. Her grimace of pain vanished. Bron looked down at her leg, and saw that the bloody hole had vanished too. Gingerly, she got to her feet, and put pressure on her leg. It wobbled for a second, and then grew steady. She smiled. "Good as new."

Celestia, meanwhile, was gazing around at the rocky, barren ground with a look of great sadness. Bron walked over to her and put his arm around her.

"We may have won," she said, gesturing at the ground, "but it didn't bring back the Garden of Life. Before the Phraxguardians took over, this was a beautiful place full of trees and flowers and shrubs. Now it's empty."

Bron gathered up a few of the pillar fragments and threw them over the edge of the peak. "It's empty now," he said, "but you saw the glisters. They'll bring everything back…the Garden of Life, the Eastern Woods, and even the Twilight Woods. Nature will encroach upon the places it lost, and reclaim them."

"Indeed it will, Master Bron," came an unfamiliar, deep voice.

Bron looked up into the sky, startled, and saw a magnificent bird heading in their direction. It had a massive wingspan, black and white feathers, and a great horned bill.

"A caterbird!" exclaimed Durix in astonishment.

The colossal bird landed in front of Bron. Bron walked over to it and gazed into its purple eyes. "You're not just _a_ caterbird…" he said slowly. "You're _the_ caterbird, aren't you? The one who watched over Twig Verginix so long ago."

The caterbird nodded its vast head. "I am the first caterbird…the oldest. As the only of the three Ancient Ones who is capable of moving, I could travel here, to watch the rebirth of the Edge…and to see your triumph."

The caterbird scrutinized Bron for a few moments, and then said, "Your suspicion was correct, Master Bron. You are indeed the descendent of Nate Quarter…and of the Immortals."

Bron felt an overwhelming emotion rising in his chest. He, Bron Rackis, descended from the most valiant individuals the Edge had ever known!

"But…but why are you telling me this?" said Bron. "I thought that when the Immortals were finally released from their imprisonment centuries ago, you were too. I thought that you were no longer bound to watch over Captain Twig's descendants."

"Yes…I am free," confirmed the caterbird, nodding solemnly. "I am not bound to watch over you, Master Bron. I came of my own free will."

Bron stared back in amazement.

"I suffered greatly from my inescapable debt to Twig," said the caterbird. "It is not natural for us Ancient Ones to be so closely bound to the destiny of another for so long. For five hundred years, I remained trapped, desperately longing to be released from my obligations. And eventually, one night, my wish was granted. The Immortals returned to their glister state, and I was liberated.

"But this sudden liberation brought me clarity. I had long believed that we Ancient Ones knew everything there was to know. Twig proved me wrong on many occasions. And with his departure, he managed to do so one final time."

"I…I don't understand," said Bron, confused.

"The wheels of progress here in the Edge had been turning, faster than ever. I had resigned myself to believe that only with progress comes prosperity. It was a reasonable assumption, for that is how it had always been. It is why I never allowed myself to interfere with the progress of society except for where my debts existed.

"For this reason, I began to feel unease with the coming of the Third Age of Flight. Progress was reshaping the world…but at what cost? The Deepwoods suffered as the settlements grew, as industrialization thrived…but I merely assumed that it would all turn out for the best in the end.

"The beginning of the Fourth Age of Flight showed me how very wrong I had been. Progress worked backwards…it destroyed any hope of a free and fair society."

"I still don't really understand what it is you're telling me," Bron said.

"I am telling you, Master Bron, that the lesson Twig had unknowingly been attempting to teach me has finally sunk in. He proved it to me when he ended the Raintasters' profitable alliance with the Leaguesmen over the phraxdust market. He proved it to me when he and his apprentice unchained Sanctaphrax. He proved it to me when his descendant restored the old flow of the Riverrise spring. He proved it to me when the Immortals destroyed the gloamglozers, who had been born of an arrogant experiment long ago. And now, you have proven it to me with the end of the Phraxguardians."

"But…what did he prove to you?"

"He proved to me that not all voices which bring new ideas bring reason, because some new ideas call back the old order. The order of slavery, oppression, cruelty, and the strong picking on the weak. But when this comes into play in the new order, it can produce terrors the like of which have never been seen before. The Blight. The depletion of glisters. The jeopardy of the entire Edgeworld.

"For as long as the Ancient Ones have existed, we have seen growth and development. We have become content with it. _Too_ content. And now you understand the nature of my mistake. I have returned to apologize to you, Master Bron. And not only to you, but to the entire Edge."

"But it wasn't your fault!" protested Bron. "None of it was! You couldn't have done anything!"

"Couldn't I?" said the caterbird. "You do not know me as I know myself, Master Bron. You believe me to be omniscient? I believed this was so for too long. Nothing could be further from the truth. I grew too distant from the life that came after me. I took that life for granted. I was indifferent to its trials and struggles. Do you think that I desired to watch over those who were at my hatchings? Not once in billions of years has this been so. But it should have been. You and your ancestors have taught me why."

The caterbird hung its head, looking disgusted with itself.

"You're being too hard on yourself," said Bron firmly. "You aren't a god. It's not your responsibility to look after us."

"Is that true?" said the caterbird, "Or do you simply believe that because that is what you have grown up seeing?"

Bron had no answer to that.

"You are correct that I am not a god, Master Bron," continued the caterbird. "I would not deserve such power in any case. You have seen how little I make of what _has_ been entrusted to me."

"Please, listen to me," said Bron. "So, you've made a few mistakes. But it isn't too late. The Edge has been reborn. Whatever role you think you should play…there's still time to play it."

The caterbird's large purple eyes scrutinized Bron's face for several moments. Then, it said, "You are correct, Master Bron. There _is_ time. I merely lost my way. If anyone deserves to be gods, it is Quint, Twig, Rook, Nate…and you. Your bravery, your visions, your ideas…these are what truly make you the Immortals."

"M-me, too?" stammered Bron. "I…I…"

"It is a new dawn, Bron Rackis," said the caterbird, spreading its wings, launching itself into the air, and flying east. "For you. For me. And for the Edge."


	26. Chapter 25: The New Edge

Bron, Durix, Celestia, Raziel, and Leris descended the great path known as Kobold's Steps, heading for the city below, their ears still ringing with what the caterbird had said. Bron felt numb. The words which the caterbird told him echoed around his head. "_Your bravery, your visions, your ideas…these are what truly make you the Immortals_."

That this mighty, ancient creature held him in the same regards that it held the legendary heroes of the past meant more to Bron than anything else. It was impossible. How could his deeds be comparable to those of Quint, Twig, and Rook?

The answer was waiting for him at the bottom of Kobold's Steps.

The five of them were greeted with the sight of thousands and thousands of people of every clan and tribe imaginable. Trolls, trogs, elves, goblins, waifs, fourthlings, slaughterers, fettleleggers, gnomes…even a few shrykes. All of them were screaming themselves hoarse and waving hats and scarves in the air. Many of them were sobbing. Hands seized Bron, Durix, Celestia, Leris, and Raziel, and they were being passed overhead by the jubilant crowd.

"You did it!"

"The Phraxguardians are no more!"

"The Empire is gone!"

"The glisters are free!"

"The Edge is saved!"

The roars of the crowd made the ground itself tremble. Everybody was fighting to get to the center…to see their saviors, to touch them, to make their own screams and yells heard.

After many hours, the throng calmed down enough to start discussing more serious matters.

"When the _Edgesaver_ was destroyed, the leaders of Omniphrax perished," said a tufted goblin near the center of the circle. "We need guidance…someone who can lead us to a bright future. We hope the five of you will assume that role."

Nobody said a word. Bron's chest was pounding. Could they really be up to the task? Could they oversee the construction of a new Edge?

The five of them looked at each other. They all felt the same as Bron…yet they knew that there was nobody else who would be capable of accepting the responsibility. As one, they nodded.

"To the Council of Liberty!" bellowed a voice. The thousands of onlookers took up the call, stamping their feet and roaring. "_To the Council of Liberty!_"

When at last the crowd grew silent again, two small, frail figures made their way to the center of the crowd. One of them stared up at the five Councilors, her barbells quivering.

"_Can you ever forgive us?_" thought Kilfitresse. "_I made a terrible lapse of judgment in refusing to help you leave our settlement. I condemned you to a death you did not deserve._"

"You more than made up for it in the battle." said Bron, Durix and Celestia nodding in agreement.

The second figure turned and gestured in the direction they had come. "_We have rounded up the surviving Phraxguardians, Councilors,_" reported Verticule."_What are we to do with them?_"

The entire crowd was able to here Verticule's thoughts. They parted to reveal a scorched platform on which a weapons tower had clearly stood. Gathered on the platform, apparently held immobile by the minds of the circle of waifs surrounding them, were a few hundred white-robed individuals, some of them smeared with dirt and blood.

Roars of derision and fury rose from the crowd. "Kill them! Destroy them! Rip out their gizzards!"

But Bron held up his hand, and the crowd swiftly fell silent. For a second he was struck dumb by the power that one movement had conveyed…that the mob was hanging on his every word.

"We can't kill them," he said. "What kind of message are we going to be sending about the future? The way we deal with them should serve as a symbol of how things are going to be different."

There were a few mutters of discontent. Bron ignored them.

"We will give each and every one of them a trial. They will have a fair chance to defend their actions. Most of them will probably be imprisoned. But if any of them were forced into service, if they had any reserves and resisted the orders they were given…well, I think they should be granted a fresh start. We'll do the same thing for the pawns of the Empire in Hive and Great Glade, too. It will be a model for justice repeated throughout the whole Edge."

The crowd cheered again. The Phraxguardians, still standing rigid and poker-stiff, did not respond.

"And another thing…this whole Council of Liberty business will end as soon as the Edge has been rebuilt," continued Bron. "We will not take a shred more power than is necessary. You saw what happened when the Edge had a Glorious Leader. We will restore the old governments of Great Glade and Hive and all the other settlements. Then we will return to Omniphrax, and preside over nothing beyond the Mire. That is the only way the Edgeworld can truly be free…if every settlement, every group, and every individual has a voice."

Riverrise was shaken by the largest roar of applause and cheering yet.

"We will now travel to the settlements in the east, and begin to liberate them too," said Bron. "But not aboard glisterships. We will journey on foot through Waif Trail and Thorn Gate. Glister technology shall never be used again, for the slavery of glisters will be no more. But we cannot manage the journey alone…we will need protection from the dangers of the forest, not to mention the last vestiges of the Phraxguardians who are still controlling the other settlements. Who shall come with us?"

The crowd bellowed. Every single individual raised their hand.

"Right…" said Bron. "Then we shall depart at once!"

**EPILOGUE:**

_ Bron Rackis's vision of freedom quickly became realized throughout the Edgeworld. In every last Deepwoods settlement, the old governments were restored, and the process of undoing the damage of the Fourth Age of Flight was set in motion._

_ The five councilors, accompanied by the crowd of survivors from the battle at Riverrise, traveled through the Nightwoods and the Thorn Forests, eventually arriving at Thorn Harbor. From here, the waifs flew out all across the Edge aboard their sumpwood skycraft and spread the word that the Empire was no more. Upon hearing the news, the downtrodden and oppressed in every settlement took up arms against the remaining Phraxguardians throughout the Deepwoods and reclaimed their homes._

_ Not long after that, Twilight's Edge was dismantled, and Omniphrax rejoined with the rest of the world. Its academics established institutions all over the Deepwoods, and an intellectual renaissance began as the outside world reclaimed all the knowledge the Phraxguardians attempted to destroy. The Engineers of Great Glade worked together with Omniphrax to establish what became known as the Fifth Age of Flight…a complex marriage of the technologies of the first three ages which circumvented all the problems caused by each of the individual technologies. Fifth-Age sky ships soon filled the skies, connecting the settlements for the free exchange of goods and ideas._

_ The restoration of the environment took hundreds of years, but eventually the Deepwoods were as mighty as ever they had been. New trees grew in the Phraxfields, and the Garden of Life blossomed once more. The forests even grew back in Great Glade and Hive, spurred by a movement for more environmentally-friendly factories and foundries._

_ For a time, however, it seemed as though the competitive industrialization of the Third Age of Flight might return. Phraxcrystals were still an essential part of industry, and those who dealt in them were still tremendously powerful. But one day, centuries later, everything changed._

_ Scientists at the Great Glade Academy discovered that it was possible to generate electricity from the power of the wind in High Sky. In no time, sky ships were designed that could sail on the High Sky currents, storing electricity in cells, and then distributing these cells to power machines. Phraxcrystal technology was never abandoned, but in time other viable alternatives were developed, so that the energy sector became more competitive._

_ Seeking to still remain profitable, the stormphrax industry made a revolutionary discovery. By creating miniscule tubes of stormphrax and coating them with lightwood, it was possible to create miniature circuits that could deliver controllable impulses. Soon, this technology was developed into the creation of transistors, and then phraxchips, enabling an era of computerization and robotics. Some of these phraxcomputers were launched into Open Sky, where they used electricity generated by wind currents to remain fixed at one point in space. The phraxcomputers then beamed signals all over the Edgeworld and created a worldwide exchange of information known as the Phraxnet. Eventually, a lasting peace was forged throughout the Edge, supported by a passion for technology and a countering respect for nature._

_No one can guess what the future of the Edgeworld may bring. Certainly it will bring some innovation, some improvement, and some new challenges. But as it was proven time and time again, the inhabitants of the Edge are strong. They are resilient. They will rise to meet whatever challenges they are faced with._


End file.
